Lover's Knot: Unraveled & Entangled
by VoiDreamer
Summary: It was time to let him go. Time to return to her clan and let him fade into memory. But ancient elven magic is not so easily left behind, and when trouble comes looking for her, the one man most capable of helping her may be the one she never intended to see again. Lavellan/Solas Pairing [Rating Updated]
1. Complicated

AN: Hello again! Thanks to everyone who supported Lover's Knot, I decided I'd continue the universe with this multi-chapter fic.

A huge shout out to the fellow writers of Lav/Solas - everyone has been so supportive so let's keep our community growing and positive!

Hope you enjoy!

Voi

* * *

The day that she left the rain was beating so fiercely upon the ground that only the most determined travelers dared go out. And though she had carefully crafted every other part of her trip, the rain had not been one of them. It's presence was a relief however, for the roughness of the weather suited her mood.

She needed to return home, to the forest, to her clan.

It had been years, nearly three, since she had seen them. And after so much dedicated service to the Inquisition she could ignore the call no longer. There was peace enough in Thedas that her trip would prove little issue, and if anything came up the advisors would be suitable stand-ins until she could be recalled.

It was a journey she had given much thought.

She had discussed it with those closest to her as the seasons had changed, the days of service all blending together into one seamless sense of duty. The time for duty was over for now though. And the removal of that mantle, however temporary, was a relief she dared not share with anyone.

There were some things better left unremarked, some secrets that even the closest friends need never know.

Gazing up from beneath her oiled cloak, Vallien spied the small figures of Cassandra and Josephine in the doorway of the hall as they discussed some Inquisition business, saw Cullen putting their soldiers through their paces despite the torrential downpour.

And though she could not see Leliana, she knew her spymaster was keeping an eye on it all, the keep's sentinel and secret keeper.

Not, Vallien knew, that Leliana knew every secret in the fortress. But it was difficult to keep things private with her agents everywhere.

These were the sort of things she knew she would miss; the familiarity of the Inquisition, the people who had come to take up residence in her heart as only close friends could. She could only hope they would forgive her when they found out the truth.

"You're certain about this?"

She looked down to see Dorian watching her, features schooled into such an expression of nonchalance that she could tell he knew something was wrong.

"You do not think I should return to my family?" She smiled as she teased him, pretending she did not see his suspicion, "I know you are not to keen on your parents, but last I heard you did not dislike them anymore."

"Yes well, they are much more acceptable when they are separated by mountain ranges and a bevy of forests and seas."

He flashed her his most charming grin as he drew closer, but the expression was lost a moment later when he eyed the too-small saddlebags and meager rations. The question in his eyes was followed by a verbal one a moment later.

"Traveling light?"

It was hard not to respond as she might have wanted to. Of all those she had met, Dorian had been the one she had felt an instant connection. An outsider, even amongst his fellow humans, she had taken one look at him and seen a kindred heart.

He had apparently seen the same.

That he was so unapologetically flamboyant had been a gift, a pleasure to balance against her more natural reserve. They had always complimented each other, and it did her no good to remember that they often could read each other's train of thought too.

She could not risk him finding out her true intentions today if she was to succeed. Her task had already taken too much strength, too much courage of the kind she was sorely lacking.

Waving away his concern, Vallien tapped the corner of her ear, "Dalish, remember? If I'm going to fit in by the time I get home I need to remember what it's like to have to hunt for food rather than have it delivered to the door."

"Ah..." Dorian's brows rose, "I hadn't thought of that."

She grinned, "You have your customs Tevinter, and I have mine. Now, let me get going before I lose the daylight."

"You aren't planning on doing anything stupid are you?"

His abrupt question made her pause, hesitate, as her heart twisted in her chest.

"No. I don't plan on doing anything like that." Trying to smile, she gestured to where the sky was beginning to darken, "Though if you keep delaying me I may have to begin my trip in the dead of night. Not exactly stupid but foolish all the same."

She sighed when he remained unconvinced, "I am trying to leave at a reasonable hour, Dorian."

"Promise me you'll get yourself back here when it's all over."

Vallien felt her throat tighten at the knowing look he leveled at her, nearly choked on a lie before she could find something closer to the truth.

"I' will do my very best. Take care, Dorian."

Then she was gone, turning her Red Hart out of the barn and into the driving rain, small form hunching under the deluge.

Traveling with her secrets.

Dorian knew she had chosen her words with care, had purposefully avoided promising something she had no intention of keeping. And as he watched her go, his best friend who even now had refused to tell him the truth, he wondered why her words had sounded hauntingly like a goodbye.


	2. Goodbye

AN: Thanks to everyone for the overwhelming support - all the favorites, follows and reviews have done wonders for my muse :)

Here is chapter two - I hope everyone enjoys!

~Voi

* * *

She knew the precise moment she crossed into the grove.

There were no signs, no map to tell her, but she could sense it as easily as one might experience sunlight on their face. Warm, soft, a comforting embrace.

For all that she had bittersweet memories of the place, there was something nice about returning to a cove of such quiet emotion. There had been no battle fought on this land, and the blood that had been shed had been only imaginary, invisible blood from wounds that even now remained unseen despite their horrific depth.

She had lived with those wounds long enough to know they might never heal.

_Please Vhenan..._

She could hear the words so clearly it was as if he stood before her once more. Her journey here, now, was her attempt to live past it, beyond the memory of their goodbye. But her questions lingered, made it harder to let go.

_If he had wanted an end to things then why had he called her 'his heart'?_

_Why had he chosen this path apart when she knew she was strong enough to stand beside him?_

Dismounting and setting her Hart to graze, Vallien stepped deeper into the grove, moving between boughs of scented flowers and gleaming emerald foliage.

With the night still young there was no hint of those small torch-like bugs that had lit her way the last time. But there was light enough to find what she was looking for, and when she rounded the a final bend, ducked under a flowering vine and through the cave entrance, she emerged at her destination.

The twin statues of noble Harts, rising like birds from the glittering depths of the lake, their images framed by the silvery cascade of the waterfall that lay just beyond. Elegant horns twined with moss and flowers, they were just as she remembered, beautiful in their tranquility.

Disrobing slowly, easing off her armor as she neared that inky pool at the back of the grove, Vallien closed her eyes, turning inward as the air brushed the skin of her shoulder, her exposed flank.

_The veil is thin here. Can you feel it on your skin? Tingling._

She had never been as attuned to such things, not as he had been, but even now there was no missing the buzzing of energy, the whisper of something just beyond.

It had unnerved her the first time, frightened her, if she was being honest.

But with knowledge had come security, confidence, and following the events at the Temple of Mythal, Vallian knew she would never be wanting.

Even now the voices of the hundreds before her rose like an ocean wave to sing their melodious answers to questions she had yet to ask, to make sense of everything that had been too complex to even contemplate considering.

Feeling the water as it lapped at her waist she was transported back in time, and for a moment she was standing in the middle of the well once more.

Surrounded by the Temple of Mythal in silence, she would never experience such quiet again.

How long had she stayed there? Looking to those shifting waters glitter nearly black, humming with a power not unlike this grove.

Her decision to take the knowledge of the well into herself had upset Solas, perhaps even frightened him. That she had bound herself to an elven deity for the sake of insight had been unfathomable to him.

But it had been her decision, and she stood by it even now.

Feeling the silken chill against her body, Vallien returned to the present as she began to rinse away the sweat of travel. Let the water drip, dance, as it raced along the tendrils of her hair she savored each cooling drop, each cleansing breath.

This would be the last time she would visit.

The wind upon her skin, the smooth slide of water down her side, these were the things she would remember and take with her into the future. But there was one item, one memory, she had to leave behind.

Touching the bit of string that rested between her breasts, Vallien gently drew the token up until it was eye level.

So delicate this knot, so strong.

Three years spent under armor and clothing alike, it had been traveled with her on blood soaked battlefields and into the grand halls of Orleasian nobility. A testament to strength despite appearances, he had never been far from her mind, from her heart.

It was likely she would never forget him.

And that was something she had accepted, had come to accept as each year slowly bled into another.

The distance had given her perspective.

She did not begrudge him his mission, nor his decision to leave.

They had made no promises to each other.

They had broken no vows.

But her heart had borne all it could, and she knew the only way to recover it was to let go.

_Dareth shiral ma vhenan._

She tore the necklace off with a gesture, felt her heart catch in her throat at she looked at in one last time.

And then, with the blood roaring in her ears, the thunderous cacophony of the waterfall behind her, she cast it into the water and watched it disappear into the dark.

It was time to move on.

Time to _try._

_Farewell my heart._


	3. Shadow

AN: Thanks to everyone for being so supportive and being so wonderful! Without further ado, here is chapter 3!

Enjoy,

~Voi

* * *

Dheron could hardly believe his luck.

He had found her, the Dalish with the bare face.

Since seeing her at the tavern he had followed her for the better part of two days.

Hers was a face he had vowed to never forget.

Not because he _fancied_ her, but because of what he had seen.

Or rather, what he thought he had seen. Even now he was not entirely sure what he had witnessed in the grove. It had been dark, and from his perch in the trees he had only managed to get a handful of their whispered words. But he had recognized the ancient magic that had wound its way around her, seen the promise of elven skill in the blue glow of her companion's gift.

Intoxicating.

The knowledge that someone had such magic was so tantalizing it had drove him nearly mad with want. How long had it been since he had found such a promising source of skill?

Years it had taken him, combing the land in search of her and the other elf. Of longing so fiercely for that magic, that he would have willingly sacrificed parts of himself to attain it. But no matter how many minds he had searched or memories he had forcibly picked through, they always seemed to elude his grasp.

He had all but given up, had only just begun to plan his travels out of the region when his luck had turned completely on its head.

_Fen'harel, trickster and chief amoung gods please hear me._

_Let me find the bare-faced Dalish woman and her lover._

_Let me know his secrets and wield the power that he has._

It seemed his desperate prayers to Fen'harel had not gone amiss, and he gave thanks to the wolf that he alone had answered Dheron's plea.

But while the elven woman who had walked in looked very early the same, there were some subtle differences, ones that shone all too easily in the dim light.

Somber eyes and an unhappy heart.

Touching the amulet that lay against his chest, Dheron caressed the bitter blue stone with a thumb, as the magic began to sing in his veins.

Such a seductive song, he listened to its tune as it swept over those in the tavern and took him with it.

Even with the roaring of the rain he could hear it all, the thrum of their lives beating in his ear. There was no missing the suffering of her body, the chaotic thrum of her blood in her veins, the too-tight clench of her heart in her chest that spoke of grief and loss.

Dheron frowned as he dove upwards through his magic, towards her mind, her memories.

Had she lost the man? Her lover?

If she had, then all of his time spent searching for them would have been a waste. He could feel his temper grow at the thought, his irritation flutter to life. He had wanted the man, for his power, his ability

Reaching higher, touching her temple with the very tip of his magic, he paused for a moment to get himself collected. Memories were delicate things, even when willfully given. To be taken without permission, without calm, was not only dangerous but potentially damaging.

He could not risk his work by being upset.

His passion was knowledge, his aim involved restoring the Dalish to the glory of their past. If he was to bring forth another Arlathan then he needed the fierce, the brave, the cunning.

Dheron feared no one, not even the most dangerous of gods. And so he offered prayers to Fen'Harel alone. For only he who had brought both Creators and Forgotten Ones to heel was worthy of worship.

Only _he_ could be trusted to grant Dheron's request to meet that powerful elven mage once more, to learn his secrets.

He had not been disappointed yet.

"Hello."

Smiling pleasantly when she sat down beside him, he took note of the weapons she carried, and dismissed them just as quickly.

She may have been Dalish at one point, but her decision to remove her vallaslin marked her as a traitor to her people, one who did not have pride. He doubted she could wield her weapons properly, not when she cared so little for her heritage.

Besides, his was a power wrought from years of study, of bartering with greater magics and he had no equal. Not among men, and certainly not among the withered abilities of his elven kin.

Whole clans had been sacrificed to this appetite. Those he deemed unworthy, too peaceful or shamefully un-elven were removed as well.

She would be easy enough to remove once he had taken what he needed.

And that was why he had followed her out of the tavern that night, why he had slunk through the shadows and trailed after her.

He needed to know where her lover was.

It was not the sort of secret she would share willingly, and so he set about getting ready.

Waiting.

Watching.

She entered the grove, thinking herself safe, and fell into his trap.

He watched her as she bathed, greedily absorbed the image of her form in the moonlight and wondered what it might like to use her for more than just bait.

But he needed her whole, knew her lover would never agree to a trade if she were...damaged.

He could not allow her to arm herself either.

And so the moment she was distracted, by that bit of string in her palm, he sprang into action.

She did not even have time to scream.


	4. Resonate

AN: A huge shout out to all the people who joined us after that last chapter - color me pleasantly surprised!

Another nod goes to all my reviewers: KristyConspiracy, DROH, FieryRose00, Skidney and Umerue for taking the time to write such supportive (and helpful) comments. I really appreciate you taking the time to share your thoughts!

This here is a short one, but I'd rather post it now and keeping a fairly consistent schedule.

Enjoy,

Voi

* * *

He had been dreaming, had been in the Fade, when it happened.

From far off in the west the sky had darkened, to churn violently like a storm on the horizon. Pieces of the fade twisting into a thunderhead of noise, the sound carried across the landscape in a great rolling wave.

Screaming, hundreds of voices screaming.

The noise echoed in every hollow, every rocky canyon and embedded itself so deeply in the land that for a terrible moment it seemed as if the Breach had opened once more, driving the spirits away with a ferocity that few could match.

Men, women, it was the sound of such agony that even the ghostly noises of battlefields paled in comparison. Generations of people in pain.

And then it was abruptly, jarringly silent.

A vacuum so empty that it felt like he had suddenly lost the very sense of hearing itself.

There was nothing but the memory of that terrible noise ringing in his mind.

Haunting.

Solas stared at the direction of where the wailing had originated. Frozen, rooted to the ground as he swallowed past the unease that grew with each moment that the ringing in his mind continued. He knew who lay in that direction, had taken great pains to avoid her as much as possible.

He had recognized _her_ voice among the masses. He knew he had.

But this storm, this screaming, was like all things in the fade. A memory of an event, something that had happened long ago.

He felt his skin prickle as a chill settled over him.

How long ago had this happened?

Days? Years?

Before he could think about what he was doing he began to move, towards the horizon, towards her.

If he could discern the location of where she had been, then maybe...

Traveling in the Fade seemed faster somehow, the land moving past more quickly. The result of his own desire to see the distance shrink, perhaps? Mountains rolled away, down into valleys, forested hills before flattening into the plains.

Closer and closer he came, and the nearer he drew, the more he could hear another noise, a humming, low and steady.

Around his neck, under the layers of clothing, the loop he still wore, the one she had gifted to him, seemed to do the same. But the resonance did not make him feel better nor assuage his concerns.

It seemed all the worse when he arrived at his destination.

He knew the space, the land.

There was no mistaking the grove, not in the Fade.

He had visited the grounds periodically over the course of his life, but it had been several years since his last visit. Still, the landscape seemed virtually the same, more like it's waking world than most because the veil was so thin.

Thin enough that spirits could cross easily between if they had the will.

Thin enough that those in possession of powerful magic could inject their abilities into the beyond.

And someone had, intentional or not, sent something through.

Scanning the terrain, the lush not-trees and pools of not-water, Solas sought out that item that even now hummed with purpose.

Sharp eyed and observant, it should not have taken him as long as it did. But when he finally saw it, the little bit of cord, his exhale was so sharp, so sudden that his lungs protested at the loss.

Blinking in rapid succession, trying to clear his vision, his lips twisted into a worried frown when the knot remained where it was on the silt strewn bank.

_What was it doing here?_

He bent down, fingers brushing what was left of the token, the unraveled mess.

_And where was she?_


	5. Obsession

AN: HUGE shoutout to everyone for the last chapter - I can't believe how many new followers/favorites/reviews it got - so thank you so much for the sweet surprise.

I know these chapters tend to be pretty brief - but I'm hoping their (relatively) frequent posts help things along. I suppose I could hold off and post longer chapters, but I really do want to get them to you as fast as possible.

Thanks again to everyone - it's so wonderful to hear back!

Enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

She was a _wonder_.

Dheron gazed at his prize, her unconscious form, and felt himself flush in pleasure.

What a surprise, a delightful break from the norm.

More than he had expected, more than he could have imagined possible, her very existence made life so much more intriguing.

And for the first time since he had seen her in the tavern he took the time to look at her, _really_ look at her. He had thought her nothing more an a bargaining chip at the beginning, but now...

His eyes skimmed the fine bones of her face, the delicate slope of her nose and modest shape of her mouth. Lower, he traced the elegant line of her throat where it disappeared into the rough tunic she wore, noting the jagged scar that marred the otherwise smooth skin.

The Dalish were a warring peoples, fierce. Her scars did not detract from her beauty so much as make her more acceptable to her captor. She might not have been a _true_ elf, but at least she could fight like one. He had the bruises and cuts to prove it.

It made sense now, why she had accompanied her companion in the grove. They were a pair, both of them steeped in ancient elven magic; she the knowledge and her companion the power.

Female and male.

Did she augment her lover's abilities?

Dheron considered the soft swell of her bosom, the delicate flare of her hips and mused at the possibilities. If she had been the other man's lover, then did their relationship somehow play into their powers? Ancient elven magic was advanced, but Dheron had known other magic to have more...primal origins.

The idea was intriguing but one he set aside in favor of the larger question.

Would she be more useful to him if he had her companion's abilities?

Like a well, could someone draw from her with the right sort of bucket?

Dheron glanced down at his amulet and frowned. He had thought it a powerful tool, but in the face of her grand reservoir it seemed a crude implement, more like a spoon than a bucket. Too rough if he was going to continue without causing permanent damage.

Still, his options were limited. Until he located her lover, his amulet was the only means to extract information from her.

The few times she had been conscious the struggle to keep her under control had been a mighty one. The last instance in particular had been a near thing, and only his use of the amulet had shifted the fight in his favor.

That was how he had made his discovery.

It had been a shock of course, almost terrifying.

But worth it. _So_ worth the spike of fear that had proceeded what had been an exquisite rush of noise, of power.

Even now he could still hear the myriad of voices that had exploded his senses when he had first tapped into her memories.

How marvelous.

_Delicious_.

And he had only thought to take a single moment worth of memories. How overwhelming must it be to have all those voices speaking at once, invested in every second of life?

So much knowledge, so much power, how did she keep it all straight?

Oh, she was still a traitor, what true elf abandoned her markings willingly? But there was respect to be gained from utility, and Dheron could not deny that she was useful.

That _Lavellan_ was useful.

Her memories, blurred and noisy though they were, had given him that small bit of information.

Lavellan.

He knew that name, had actually lived among them during his search. They had been a clan without much ambition outside of their own survival, but had suited his purposes well enough.

It still did not explain however how he could have missed her presence if she was indeed from that clan. He had only traveled with them for a week, that was true, but even then...Dheron frowned in confusion as he scanned his memories, looking for her face.

He would have remembered her, recognized her, he _knew_ he would have.

But no sooner had he started when a small groan broke him from his reverie, and Dheron looked back to find his prisoner slowly waking for her daze. Hands pushing hair from her eyes, shackles rattling as she shifted in place, there was a single beat of silence, of confusion, and then the sound of struggling, of panic turning fluidly into anger.

He saw the moment her eyes settled on him and sharpened with recognition, with hatred so potent she burned him . If he was to keep her close, he would have to remove that particular memory first. The bindings holding her were not strong enough to withstand frequent assault, and he could not sacrifice his strength so often if he meant to extract her knowledge as well.

He needed to keep her under control. And he had experience enough to know how to best manipulate her. But her knowledge, her power, that would complicate things.

And regardless of how successful his first attempt was he would have to keep a close eye on her, at least until her had what he needed. Not that he expected to be done with her any time soon. No, if his initial estimate was correct they would be spending a lot of time together, the two of them.

He smiled at the thought, _oh yes_, a lot of time indeed.

Crossing the room to where she continued to struggle, he lowered himself until they were eye to eye.

"Now Lavellan," he crooned as he settled his hands on either side of her head, noting how she tried to shake him off, tried to snap at his fingers like a feisty she-wolf.

"Let us take another look at those memories, shall we? I need to find out where you're hiding him."

He laughed when against his chest his amulet began to hum, began to glow until the blue sheen of magic had engulfed his hands.

The sound of her screaming was sweet music to his ears.


	6. Safe

AN: Hello all - thanks again for all the support! I realized I had missed responding to several questions last time, my apologies - I'll do my best to answer them here.

D.R.O.H - Thanks for asking! "Dheron" is pronounced (Dare-un)

KristieConspiracy - About the scream, I had always imagined it to be the emotion she felt at the moment when she tossed the knot. But it had occurred to me that it could also work for her capture. I liked the ambiguousness of it so I didn't try to explain it as fully as I could have. As for the Lover's Knot AU, it's really more a throw-back to my first Solas/Lavellan fic (called Lover's Knot). It's not a fully realized AU, so much as a bit of set-up for this fic itself. Apologies for the confusion.

Feel free to keep the questions coming, it helps me write more clearly and often pushes me to think of my story in other ways!

Also, as a heads up - work has ramped up in RL, so the next chapter may be a bit delayed and not posted on Friday/Weekend as I've been trying to do.

Thanks again everyone!

Enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

She woke up in a panic, eyes snapping open as she sat up in the dim half-light of morning.

She found herself in an unfamiliar bedroll, inside an even more unfamiliar tent that smelled of mold and disuse. Struggling to her knees, she managed to find her way out of the small space, clawing back the tent-flap to emerge half-dressed and terrified. Stumbling as she cleared the tent's shadow, she did not feel the grass beneath her feet, nor did she appreciate the silvery fog that clung to the tall trees like silken banners. All of it was lost to her, made invisible by the sense of wrong that echoed in her mind with the power of a hundred voices.

Something was wrong, she needed to...

Panic rose in her throat, threatened to leave her screaming without end.

Where was she?

She had to get away, had to...

Breathing hard, she stopped short as her mind failed her. Straining to see where she was, she scanned her lush surroundings and felt her stomach clench when she recognized nothing.

This was not where she had wanted to be.

Where was the grove? She remembered leaving Skyhold, had started her journey just two days prior, so _where_ was she?

"Oh good, you're awake. I was so worried."

The voice made her start, made her whip around and face the speaker with such speed that her head and neck ached in protest.

"I..." She pressed her hand to her temple as it began to pound, watching the newcomer warily as he approached. Taller than her, tall for an elf, he was slim of build and was clearly dalish. There was no missing his vallaslin, not when he wore it as darkly inked and bold as he did.

By all accounts his appearance should have comforted her, eased the worry. The dalish clans might have warred with one another off and on over the course of recent history, but the ongoing conflicts with humans had united rather than fractured the clans.

Still, there was something..._off_, and the closer he got the more the hairs on the back of her neck prickled with unease.

"What happened to me? Where am I?"

Hands held wide to convey a lack of threat, the man gave her a sympathetic frown as her drew near, "I found you on the side of the road. I think you might have been beset by bandits."

"Bandits?"

His answer sounded wrong, but she could find nothing in her mind to contradict it. Thinking harder did nothing but make her head ache all the more sharply, and -

_Heart pounding, hands scraping wildly against the hard wood, she had been chained, captured. She had to get away...had to warn-_

She jerked back to reality at found the other elf staring at her in concern, "I'm sorry. You were out cold when I found you, alone. Were you traveling with anyone?"

Frowning, she tried to think, tried to _remember_ and felt something frightened bubble up the longer her mind remained so terribly blank; it felt suspiciously like helplessness.

"I...do not think so."

She had not left Skyhold with anyone, but who was to say she had not met anyone in the interim? Still, she hesitated to admit to the gaping holes in her memory, it left a vulnerability that was not acceptable when she was so far out of her element.

"Where are we?"

She looked around and saw nothing but the deep green of the trees, so unlike the mottled colors of the forests at the coast

"Just outside the Brecillian Forest, not more than a days travel."

Given that she had been headed in the opposite direction, the news was jarring, unsettling and made little sense. At her frown, her companion smiled in sympathy, "I know this must sound strange, but you have been in and out of consciousness for the past few days. I did not dare move you, especially since you kept saying you were waiting for someone."

"Waiting for someone?" She frowned, "That doesn't make any sense I-."

The pounding in her head sharpened suddenly, transforming into a stabbing pain that made her stagger.

The voices of the well seemed to spring to life in earnest, to clamor in a way unlike anything before. Louder and louder, until they were howling in her ears, nothing but a noise that felt of pain and anger and fear. And though she had grown used to the often overwhelming presence in her mind, nothing had prepared her for the violent cacophony that greeted her now.

Reaching out blindly as the world spun before her eyes, she staggered several steps forward before she was caught, held upright by her mysterious companion.

The cool press of fingertips to her temple followed a split second later, the soothing chill quieting the shouting in her head.

"Are you ok?"

She could hear the concern in his voice, felt his arms around her, constricting and holding and keeping her steady. It made her stomach twist uncomfortably, made her afraid though she was not sure why.

Opening her eyes, she stepped back as she straightened, expression suspicious as she followed the flutter of his hands as he carefully tucked them to his sides.

She knew the gesture, the talent, had seen it often enough to recognize it for what it was.

"You're a mage?" She did not see a staff, but now that she suggested it there were a variety of clues, the lack of armor on him, the easy swagger that came with knowing power was always just a gesture away.

"I was the First in my Clan..." He seemed to admit the fact uneasily, "We were attacked."

It was a story that had been all to common after the Breach, but her heart ached all the same. The People were a dying breed, and every loss was another severed tie to the past.

"I am so sorry. Were you the only survivor?"

His wounded nod was answer enough.

Vallien was silent for a long moment, "What were you doing here then? There is not a clan around these parts for miles."

There had been, once, but the stories from the elves in these parts had dissolved amidst rumors of werewolves and vengeful spirits.

"I was looking for Clan Lavellan. I had worked with their Keeper years ago and thought I might ask them."

"Clan Lavellan?"

The coincidence made her stomach twist uncomfortably. Her companion had been nothing but kind, considerate, but her instincts continued to put her on edge. Something was not right, no matter how unassuming this elven mage was.

Looking around she scanned the forest for the Hart that she had taken from the Skyhold and saw nothing.

"I really should be going."

"Going?" He sounded nervous, apprehensive, "Are you sure you're fit to travel?"

"Fit or not, I need to go." She glanced at him for a moment before scanning the tree line again, looking for the best way out, "I have people waiting for me."

"Your clan?" He asked casually, carefully.

Hairs prickling anew, she slanted him a look and realized in that moment what was wrong. Somehow, someway he knew too much, about her and about their situation in particular.

She no longer wore the vallaslin, had not since that fateful evening years ago. Their disappearance had led to questions by those who knew her, concern. But to those who did not know her, or her heritage, the lack of markings had inevitably led to a singular conclusion.

City elf. Flat-ear.

It was impossible to mistake one for the other when the markings made the difference so clear. So how had this mage known? How?

She was not equipped to confront him, not truly. But the longer she stood in the clearing the more her instincts demanded she leave.

"I really must be going."

"Going?"

His expression turned in an instant, grew colder and menacing. And as his mask of civility shattered she caught a glimpse of the figure underneath. It was one she had seen before, one she recognized.

"You're him...from the grove."

His smile, a dark and dangerous thing twisted his features into a terrible smirk And as he raised his hands in a magical gesture she knew she had little hope of fleeing. Still, she had to try and the clearing exploded a she called forth the power of her mark.


	7. Remember

AN: Hello all! Did you see? 100 lovely readers are following this fic! Thank you so much for your support, it's been a huge boost to see people excited for this fic, so I hope I can continue to keep you all guessing ;)

To those of you with questions - keep them coming (constructive feedback too!).

KristyConspiracy - First and foremost, thank you for your continued feedback (both compliments and constructive). This is a huge help, and I try to make changes as I get the heads up. As for your question about about her mark/ability to enter the Fade. I suppose for me this really goes back to how I played the game and understood the mark. It always felt like there had to be a rift in order for the mark to interact and open it/close it. The relationship between the rift and ancient elven artifacts (like Dheron's amulet) will be something I'll be exploring in future chapters, but I've always seen the mark as more of a key to open/close door - not necessarily create doors out of nothing.

I did also admittedly play as a non-mage Lavellan so my relationship with the mark/Fade was always one of caution. I try to be as non-specific about the class of our story Lavellan so all readers can put their lovely gals in there instead, but I think that without Solas' knowledge as 'Fade guru' the use of the mark would have been secondary to her other skills.

Thanks again to everyone who wrote a review for this past chapter: jpgFury, LilithiaRW, DROH,LifeandFire25, KristyConspiracy,Ioialoha - and to everyone who took the time to do so on previous chapters. You guys are AWESOME :)

So without further ado - here is chapter 7!

Enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

Solas found her wandering the Fade, staggering, as if her body had not the strength to carry her. There were no wounds upon her body, but there, beneath her skin seemed to be a thousand small cracks, a thousand small pieces poised to collapse at the slightest gust of wind.

_What had happened?_

He called to her and found her deaf to his voice, blind to his appearance.

"Lavellan?"

That she was alive had almost been too much ask, and he had spent many long evenings _awake_ wondering if she was gone. Never had her mortality come into question until he realized he might have lost her entirely.

He was still not entirely convinced that she was real.

Following the natural slope of the land, Solas drew nearer but stopped short when he caught sight of her wearied face.

And in that instant, in that moment, those memories he had kept so carefully locked away shuddered to life, breathed anew in the face of her nearness.

_Vhenan._

Even now the word fit her perfectly

He had no business using the endearment, the truth thought it may be. Many things had changed since they had parted. But though he called to her she didn't even pause in what she was doing, merely plodded along in silence. Her head continued to turn this way and that as if she were looking, or perhaps listening for something.

"Vhenan?"

Frowning in worry, he trailed after her for only a moment before he brushed the tips of his fingers against her shoulder, drawing back suddenly when she gave a startled cry and stumbled backwards, eyes wild as she wheeled around.

There was no recognition when at last her eyes fell on him, no sudden flash of emotion, not even the anger that he knew he deserved.

"Oh...hello."

Her words were even more confusing. Flickering between unease, anger and fear, Solas watched her and felt as if he had stumbled upon a stranger wearing the face of a friend, of a lover.

"Are you lost too?" Wringing her hands as she tried to smile, she made no move towards him, but neither did she try to leave.

"I..." She looked around fretfully, and the expression was so unlike her that Solas hesitated to interrupt her. "I'm looking for something...or someone? He can help me, but I've forgotten his name."

"You've forgotten it?" Solas spoke softly, half afraid that he would scare her away.

Shaking her head, she gestured around them, "I have names but they're all jumbled up. I can't..." Her hand came up to touch her temple with a flinch, and in that moment Solas saw the cause of her confusion, her strain.

A mark, a star-like explosion of glowing blue cracks that expanded away from the point at her temple. He recognized the coloring, the telltale humming: ancient magic, elvhen magic, the mark of an artifact crafted in his own age.

Someone had been using it to draw power, draw _something_ from her, but had not the skill to use it properly. She was fracturing from the misuse, being subjected to the whims of a careless mage.

After all the care he had taken to undo the devastation of his orb in the hands of the wrong person, the fact that yet another was making his same mistake was as infuriating as it sickened him. How dare they. Did they know nothing of who she was, what she had sacrificed for all of their lives?

There was guilt there, but more than that, there was rage.

Fury avalanched through him, a feeling so cold and pure that it very nearly burned away the thin mask of humanity that he wore to fit in. Fen'harel, the wolf, howled, and only the absence of the culprit kept the beast at bay.

He would find the mage responsible, and unlike the Inquisitor, he would show no mercy.

Only blood could pay for this sort of wound.

"Are you alright?"

The feather light touch of her hand, a mirror of his own gesture moments before, snapped him from his thoughts. Blinking rapidly to clear vision of blood and vengence from his eyes, Solas saw her take several tentative steps forward as concern rippled through her.

"You look as if you might tear out someone's throat." She tried to make a joke of it, but her nervous glance at his mouth was more appropriate than she knew. Ironic that she was still as perceptive of him, continued to known him better, than even those he had lived with a millennia ago.

"Will you allow me to try and help you?"

The words were out of his mouth before he had the proper wherewithal to consider what he was doing, to wonder at the implications.

"You can?" She looked so earnest in that moment. Wide eyed and hopeful, she seemed looked every inch the young elven woman she must have been before the Breach, before time and responsibility had aged her. It was as unnerving as it was painful, made all the more sad by the realization that he had never known her like this.

How had he been so blind, when she had always shown such clear sightedness?

It seemed she would forever continue to impress him.

"Close your eyes."

A request that reminded him too much of their time in the grove. She obeyed now as she did back then, her trust in him as implicit as it had ever been.

Would she look at him like that after he had repaired what he could? Would she willingly close her eyes when he asked, knowing she had trusted him with her heart and he had left it a mangled mess?

There was no time to consider the personal implications. He had to do what he could in the time given to them. And so he called his magic to the tips of his fingers, letting the soft blue light flare to life as he directed it to where her magical wound lay half-hidden beneath her hair.

Gently, tenderly he shifted the tendrils of silk until the cool flesh of his skin pressed against the warmth of her own. And that touch, that brush of skin against skin was as electric as it had always been, as shocking as the first.

They remained still, sharing the same heartbeat, the same slow breath for only a moment before it was done, the magic slowly fading, taking the majority of the scarring with it.

No sooner had the magic dissipated when her eyes fluttered open. Bright and clear, they opened and in that moment widened with recognition.

"Solas?"

Pale faced and stunned, she shook her head in denial as her lips worked soundlessly to form coherent words. In the end even those failed her and only the clamp of her hand over her mouth managed to stop the cry of pain, of agony that reflected so sharply in her eyes. Shaking her head, she pulled back, away, as she took several steps away from him.

"You _can't_ be here. It's been _ages_."

Hoarse, tight with emotion, her voice shook when she finally spoke, cut off completely when she was forced to take great steadying gulps of air. But it was anger, not pain that powered her through her next words.

"Creators _damn_ you."

Short, to the point. She had never truly been one to curse, but that she did it now was not something Solas minded. Indeed, it was almost a relief. Let her rage. Anything was better, more bearable, than that wide-eyed look of innocence that showed him exactly what he had destroyed with his mistake.

"We do not have time for long explanations." He choked back the endearment that came so readily to his lips, "Tell me where you are. What is happening?"

Her expression chilled, "I'd rather not."

Stubborn, perhaps even foolhardy but Solas could not fault her pride when his had already done so much. Still, he hesitated. He could order her to answer and the power of the well, of Mythal, would compel her. But he had not used it on her before, and he loathed to start now when everything between them lay so broken already.

"Please." He asked again, but did not beg, "I found you wandering the Fade injured and alone. What is going on?"

She repeated his words blankly before they seemed to sink in, and as she spoke them a second time, her melodic voice seemed to catch.

"I...I'm losing memories, I think. Or they're getting mixed around. It's harder to make sense of what happened and in which order."

"How do you know if you're losing memories?" Solas pressed, it was just as likely that they were being suppressed.

"That is what _he_ says." She gestured vaguely outwards to where the waking world was waiting, "I travel with an elven man who is seeking a clan in the North. "

She swallowed hard as she looked around, "There are few gaps...in memory...before I met him, before I _meet_ him. But afterwards...things don't make sense."

And then, because it mattered to her, because it was _important_ she turned back to him and pinned him with that gaze. The one that struck him to the core.

"I do not _like_ him, Solas. There is something _wrong_ about him though I cannot remember what. But he is not to be trusted. "

"Is he the reason for your missing memories?"

She looked at him with such sadness, "I don't know."

"Then do you know where you are?"

Her laughter was as broken as her smile, "I don't remember that either."

They were both silent then, a painful sort of silence that tasted of heartache and all the unsaid things that accumulated over the course of years. This was neither the time nor the place to speak about what had transpired after their battle against the Elder One. They both knew this. And yet...

"Solas-" Her courage lived and died in the span of a single breath. And he saw the agony of it play across the features of her face, the tension in her brow. "_Never mind_."

Her arms curved around her small figure as if she might hold herself together, hands tucking close to her body as her eyes fell away from where he continued to stand silently.

It was not much, but for a man who lived on memories, had examined each one countless times, it was enough.

She looked up when he stepped closer, attention pivoting so immediately on him it would have been flattering had her mouth not quirked into a little frown. Eyes flashing in warning, her hands rose until they pressed against his shoulder.

"Don't."

Neither one of them mentioned the tremor in her voice, the way her hand trembled against the warm strength of his body. Nor did they mention the look he gave her, the light in his eyes that threatened to undo them both.

"I am sorry, Vhenan."

Whispered, pulled from tortured lips, he offered all he could, all that mattered.

And in that moment the hand that had pressed so insistently against his shoulder curled into a tight fist, taking a handful of his shirt with it.

"Don't look for me." Her words were fierce with emotion, "I'll find a way to fix this, on my own."

He smiled at her ever indomitable spirit, but shook his head, ignoring her request entirely as he grazed the sharp line of her jaw with a single finger.

"Stay safe." He said, he _ordered_, "No matter what. I'll find you."

He could not have timed his words any better, for in the next moment she was gone, lost to the waking world. Only the glow of her mark, Mythal's mark, lingered for a few heartbeats longer until that too vanished.

He had disagreed with her decision to use the Well of Sorrows those many years ago. Now it seemed it might be the only thing he could use to find her.

_Stay safe. No matter what._

It had been a foolish order, an imprecise one that could mean anything.

He only hoped it was enough.


	8. Memories

AN: You guys are absolutely awesome - the response on the last chapter was even more than I could have imagined. I will keep saying it, but YOU guys are why I keep going, thanks so much!

We do have a few questions from last chapter so I've gone ahead and answered them below - please feel free to reach out or point out something I can work on. I'm always looking to improve :)

LilithiaRW \- Glad you asked! I think Dheron has indeed taken (or seen) some very private memories, so it is hard to tell whether we can get rid of him right away :) I agree though, he's bad news - so Lavellan better do something soon!

DROH \- My timeline is hardly set in stone, but I imagined it's been 3 years since the start of the events of Inquisition, so about 2 years since Solas and Lavellan last saw one another (in person). As for the story timeline - thus far it's only been a few weeks since she left Skyhold. It hasn't been long enough for people to start wondering where she is, but it is certainly getting there. Hope this clears up any confusion, apologies if I was confusing!

LifeandFire25 \- It's funny that you mention the well not telling her about Solas' real identity. I had a similar question so I wrote an AU about an instance where the well did tell. That being said, for this particular story I'm pretending that the well only _answers _questions, and does not volunteer information unless necessary. Hence, because Lavellan has never asked the well about Solas the information has never shared.

KristyConspriacy \- I feel like you're my guardian-reader :) Thanks so much for your continued comments, I'll make those fixes!

Thanks again to everyone for their wonderful words of encouragement - I'll do my best to keep the story entertaining (and keep you all guessing!).

Enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

They could hear the strains of music from their place at the balcony.

A slow aching refrain followed by a carefully considered flourish, the orchestra that had been chosen by Orlais' finest was a talented group. But to Lavellan they seemed more like a machine of sound than source of true music. Rigid by Dalish standards, she had not cared for the noise when she arrived and even now, hours later, she found it only barely tolerable. It mattered not that the instruments were finely tuned or lavishly decorated, to her delicate elven ears there was nothing appealing in their melodies.

Instead she wished for the music of her youth, the deep thrumming of drums contrasting the sharp winging chords of Eurella's harp. Those had resonated in a way that these Orlesian compositions did not, touched at her heart, her _spirit_. Even now she could feel the pulse of the elven songs in the tips of her toes, the flex of her muscles. Her body remembered the dances to those melodies, responded the the memory of those celebrations with all the energy of one who was still there.

It seemed as if it had been years since she had last danced. In truth it was hardly six months since she had left her clan on that ill fated trip to investigate the Conclave.

"Is everything ok?"

The cadence of his voice, the familiar timbre drew her attention to where he drew up beside her.

Solas, dressed in the ceremonial uniform Cassandra had insisted he wear; her eyes took in the length of him with silent approval. Lithe though he was, the tailored cut of the coat highlighted the broadness of his shoulders, the lean strength of his taller form. Lingering over his handsome face, she traced the strong line of his nose, the stubborn set of his mouth. She glanced up, at his eyes, and flushed at the knowing glint she found there. Like a clumsy youth she had been caught staring.

"I am glad to know you approve." Lips quirking into a small half-smile he nodded to her own well dressed figure, "Your choice of clothing is equally complimentary."

"Is that your opinion?" She asked, trying to scrape together enough self control to banish her red cheeks completely.

"It is the truth." He shrugged, his directness as characteristic as ever, "You look lovely. And I was not the only one who noticed. Everything about it suits you."

"Oh..." In the face of his straightforward response her cheeks darkened further, "I did not realize."

"I know." His smile broadened, brought more light to his handsome face, "It is what I find so charming about you. You are utterly without artifice. It is...refreshing."

Stepping closer, his hand swept over the delicate fabric of her full skirt before tracing the finely wrought filigree that bound it to the bodice. By the standards of fashion it was not as current as Dorian or even Vivienne might have liked, but on Lavellan's figure anything more opulent would have seemed overworked. As it was, Solas seemed not to mind, nor even notice. Rather his attention was fixed on the silvery threads beneath his hands, the curve of her slender figure that swelled with delicate ripeness the further he traced upwards.

_"Solas."_

She tried to warn him about the lack of propriety, to remind him of the very public space they were occupying. She meant to say all these things, but when she opened her mouth the only thing that came forth was a traitorously husky, scandalized whisper of his name.

His reaction was as immediate as it was smug. His mouth curving into a wicked grin that flashed the sharp white of his teeth before he hid his mirth behind a more polite version of the same expression. This had happened with increasing frequency as of late, the flash of something more beneath his serene exterior. But Lavellan had yet to fully understand what it was.

"Come. Before the band stops playing, dance with me."

His offer warmed her, made her lips bloom immediately into a lovely smile that glowed even in the dim lighting of the balcony.

"I'd love to. But one thing first..."

Leaning up, rising to the tips of her toes, her small hands fit around the helmet he wore and gently lifted it up and off of his head. It was an intimate gesture, to feel the whisper of his skin against the tips of her fingers, one she savored.

"There. Now I can see your handsome face properly."

Teasing him as she set the set her trophy aside, she returned to his side in an instant, her smaller hand pressed itself into his larger, fitting so immediately, so comfortably that there was never any doubt of where she belonged. The little exhale of relief that whispered past his lips however was a surprise.

Had he thought she would reject his offer?

The thought shocked her, but she never had the chance to ask. In the next moment his hand closed over hers, and with a practiced pivot and smooth step backwards he set them in motion. And their chemistry, their movements were so easily in harmony that it was a wonder they had not danced with one another before.

It started quietly of course, first a few steps forward and back. But the longer they moved together, the longer they touched, the more they realized how perfectly suited they were. How right it was to be in the other's arms. He was always there, anticipating her movement before she did it. And no matter the complexity of what he requested, she would always find the skill to complete it.

With every step they took, each easy shift and twirl, they moved back in time. The opulence of the Winter Palace shifted, dissolved, into the natural arches of elven architecture, the golden light of the braziers fading into the silvery glow of veilfire and the moon. And there, on the very edge of her consciousness sprang the sounds of elven pan flutes and harps, perfuming the air like the crystal grace that grew heavy and full along the balustrade.

And the dance...

She looked up at him, caught sight of the half-smile on his lips and felt her heart lighten at the familiarity.

She _knew_ this dance.

As a child she had seen her parents follow such steps, had seen the graceful call and answer of their sinuous movements and wondered why she had not been allowed to join in. Age had brought with it wisdom, understanding, but never the opportunity to join in. Only those who had bonded, had found that perfect other, were allowed in that large circle that surrounded the ceremonial fire.

It was an old dance, ancient.

_Dirthera'lath_

A dance for lovers.

Smiling as she skimmed her hand up to his shoulder, he answered in kind, mirroring her actions as he swept them around the small space.

Around and around in a smooth flowing arc, they moved as a single being, single heart.

With time came heat. It was there in the whisper of skin against skin, the first tentative brush of fingertips against the small of the back, of a warm palm resting over where the heart beat steady and strong. But mostly it was there, naked, in the way eyes darkened with desire.

And as he bent down to capture her lips with his own-

"Dheron, I think I found it!"

The world tipped, fluctuated and then shattered as the words pulled him out of the vision, out of the memory. And once more Dheron returned to himself, to reality, finding himself faced with the woman from who's mind he had so deeply drank.

Nearly a week of hard traveling, of pushing steadily more north with her, and it seemed as if they had finally reached their goal. Looking up to where Lavellan was standing atop a ruin, Dheron almost smiled. It had gone well thus far, better that he could have imagined.

She had been nothing but helpful since waking those six days ago.

The explosion, her attempt to fight back had been more powerful than he could have imagined. But in the end it had gone almost entirely as he expected. He was alive and she was now bent to his will. His amulet's abilities were unparalleled, and whatever it had been done to her seemed permanent. There had been no bouts of anger, of distrust. She had accepted him without reservation, had even offered her help when he had explained his goals.

It was a small victory considering the cost of her attack.

Looking down at his amulet Dheron frowned at the hair-line crack that now ran the length of the gem, the small chip on its glassy surface. His ability to pull memories from her mind had been diminished, and whatever control he had over searching for specific thoughts had all but evaporated. It was like trying to read a book, looking for a particular section, but finding the pages had all been put out of order.

But he was patient, and her cooperation had helped. He had spent hours since their initial clash shifting through her thoughts, looking for any hints of ancient magic.

However, that green mark she wielded, had completely changed his goals. Once again he found he had miscalculated, had been too limited in his understanding. It made sense now, of course it did. But it had taken the explosion to show him the true power of those voices in her head.

They were connected, those voices and that mark.

They _had_ to be.

He had searched for the source of those voices, that power, and found the memory of a pool amidst temple ruins, a well of unsurpassable power. Even now he could feel the rush of the voices, of the knowledge crash over him like a wave. He needed that for himself.

But he knew of only one other pool that might provide such ability. And though its resting place was treacherous, guarded by traps and wards set by the ancient elves, it made all the more sense now. No matter the cost, Dheron needed to get there. If he was to lead the elven people to greatness then the secrets that resided in those watery depths belonged to him.

"Nicely done."

Reaching the raised platform where Lavellan was waiting, he patted her on the shoulder as he passed, ignoring her murmured response as his eyes settled on her discovery. It was hard to discern, between the shadows and the cunningly cut stonework it looked as if the builders had always intended this temple be difficult to find. But there was no missing the sculptured details of the door, the great bears that stood so menacingly on their hind legs.

Lavellan had been correct, she had found the temple. The truth of it did not make him feel as triumphant as it should have. She had found the entrance, the elven traitor who was so much more than he expected. For all of his knowledge, his power, she remained more finely attuned to the ancients than he ever could have imagined.

What a tricky woman she was. And yet, maybe it all made sense.

He had prayed to _Fen'harel _hadn't he?

Perhaps the god of trickery had put Lavellan in front of him for more than one reason.

Smiling at the thought, Dheron gestured forward, and together they began the descent into the temple of Dirthamen. There were secrets just waiting to be uncovered.


	9. Secrets

AN: Hello my lovelies! I am so sorry for the silence last week. I got pretty terribly sick on New Years Eve and it has only just gone away.

That being said, I enjoyed all the lovely comments on chapter eight and hope this next installment meets with everyone's approval. I've thrown in yet another little twist so I'm excited to see what you all think :)

I wish everyone a happy start to 2015!

Best,

Voi

* * *

She woke up for the eighth day in a row to find her memory intact, clear and crystal.

Dheron had rummaged through her mind, she could feel her temple throb from where he pressed his fingers the evening before, but everything was where it should have been. Every detail was as vibrant as it had been the first time she had noticed it, and the terrible jumbled mess he'd made those many weeks ago was as she remembered.

_Stay safe._

The words were a mantra, a song that whispered in the darkness long after she had closed her eyes.

_Stay. Safe._

She had remained docile, had followed through with Dheron's many requests in the name of heeding those two words. And all along she had planned her escape, her eventual flight to freedom. With every step she had taken northward, with every day spent hunting for the Temple of Dirthamen, she had schemed.

Unlike Dheron, who seemed to find this temple and land completely new, this area of Thedas was not unfamiliar to her. Her captor would regret not stealing more of her memories by the time she was done with him.

But knowing where she was had been a double edged sword, and she had been grateful for the fact that she had not seen Solas in the Fade since. He would know where to find her if she had appeared to him again, would put himself in danger for her sake. The time for that sort of relationship was long past. She could not - she _would not_ allow him to take such risk. There were others she had to consider too, lives that meant more to her than even his.

And though it had been hard to be so careful, to not dwell too long on him, seeing Solas had brought those still-intact memories unerringly to the surface.

_Numinehn_.

She thought his name for only a moment before flinching away, willing herself to bury it amidst the hundreds of other thoughts. It was the only thing she could do to protect him, to pretend he did not exist. But it was a struggle to ignore the memory of him and his tenderness, the stubborn set of his mouth and familiar shade of his eyes. Instead she focused on her surroundings and the very real threat her captor still posed.

They had been in the ruin for several days and had yet to find anything Dheron seemed even remotely interested in. He had mentioned looking for a well, the likes of which she had found at the temple of Mythal.

Instead all they had found thus far was a single sputtering brazier of veilfire, something he had found intriguing for only an hour before he left her to press on. He had been doing that more often as of late, leaving her alone. And just as his confidence, his arrogance grew, so too did her boldness.

She had found something in the temple, a collection of runes that she knew were important, were pointing to something even more secret. She had followed them deep into the temple for the past day and if all went well she would discover the full message soon.

Gathering a small flickering lick of blue flame, Lavellan returned to the maze of tunnels and waterlogged underground that made up the majority of Dirthamen's temple. Water, chilly and smooth circled her ankles as she drew further down.

_Deeper and deeper._

With each room she passed the shadows seemed to grow ever larger, as if to conceal secrets of increasingly greater value. Lavellan could feel the veil thin with each step forward as well, as if the weight of all the things left unsaid had the power to will those very silent thoughts into being. There was no denying the feel of it, the familiar tingle, though this one bit with icy teeth made sharp with the sort of dangerous things men kept buried in their hearts.

Her silence was her strength, served as her armor against the rising tide of cold and dark. And through it all the little flicker of veilfire burned without fail, dancing across the slick grey of the temple walls until it found its mate in the glitter of ancient runes carved deep and fluid into the stony faces of the temple.

She spent hours with those runes, tracked them through the tunnels as each one pointed to another. Guided by the voices of the well, by the words she found, she followed the marks until she came before a scrawled tablet so ornate that for a moment they seemed a collection of images rather than collection of text.

The words were in ancient elven, but even then, it took every ounce of skill she had to complete the translation. Letting the voices of the well crash over her like a wave, she took a slow exhale to steady herself as they nearly overwhelmed her consciousness. Then she focused, directed and channeled their overwhelming knowledge until one by one she read the words upon the wall.

_The mirrored pathway, to the realm that lies between this and Falon'din. Carry the gift of one twin to travel the path of the other._

She spoke the words aloud, her soft voice shattering the silence as it resounded in the deep, echoing in the barrel-vaulted spaces until the hum of it could be felt in her chest as well as heard by her delicate ears.

On and on it went, lingering even when she completed the translation, growing louder and louder it seemed until the darkness was pierced by light itself, growing from the midst of the words to birth two images.

The first was the picture of a gem, a sharp angled stone, and just beneath it a more familiar shape; its surface a molten surface of gold and silver.

A mirror and the key it needed to be unlocked.

The vision faded a moment later, returning the tunnel to darkness leaving only Lavellan's mind illuminated by her discovery.

_An eluvian._

There was one in the temple. Somewhere.

She swallowed the thought knowing that Dheron would find it when he searched her mind that evening. It was unlikely he would understand the full importance of her find, she hoped he did not, but it seemed her time to act was quickly drawing to a close.

An eluvian offered a way out, a path which Dheron would be unable to follow.

She just had to find it and hope it was still intact, then she would worry about how to unlock its path away from the temple, away from Dheron. The voices of the well promised her their power, and she would find a way.

She emerged from the waterlogged tunnels nearly an hour later, mind still humming softly with the words the veilfire had revealed amidst the shadow.

But when she arrived in the central room, the hall Dheron had last been working in, she found herself confronted by the unsettling stench of death. Pungent, it cut through the otherwise clean and crisp air of the temple. And all around the altar of Dirthamen were body parts. Grey, hacked from bodies long left to decay, she looked at each of the pieces on their respective pedestals and felt her stomach turn in distaste. There were no proper rituals of any kind that required such offerings.

"Dheron?"

Fear and caution kept her voice low as she descended the final steps to where he was. Bent over something, the green glow of the object painted itself across his sharp features with a sinister brush, making the cold in her stomach congeal as she drew closer still.

"Are you-" But the moment she touched his shoulder the light bloomed brighter, pulsed once before the force of magic pushed her back several steps. Whatever he had done with his ritual was complete, and as she blinked away the too-bright light the presence of a third being, a magical being, touched her consiousness.

_"Greetings, you who have freed me from the prison created by traitors and those who distrusted the word of Dirthamen. __Do you desire secrets or-?"_ The spirit, the demon, purred, _"Ah, I see."_

A figure emerged from beneath the water, shadows and green light solidifying until it looked nearly the height and breadth of Dheron himself. But unlike other demons this one did not take on the features of pride or desire. Indeed it seemed almost elven with its pointed ears and lithe figure.

_"I know you child of Clan Lavellan. I have seen the path you have taken, the steps that have led you here. I know the path you wish to follow now. Would you like me to free you now?"_

It's voice, low and male, echoed in her mind, brushed against her consciousness like a cat. Slow and teasing, the deep thrum of its power echoed in the voice that promised to fulfill her deepest desire.

But Lavellan had dealt with demons before, had enough experience to know better. Swallowing down the icy cold that clutched at her throat, she ignored the temptation and responded with a question of her own.

_"Who are you?"_ She thought rather than spoke the words, answering kind with kind. Vaguely she could see Dheron was still standing where she had last seen him, but he seemed transfixed by something else entirely.

_"I am called the Highest One, a Grand Priest to the God of Secrets Dirthamen though that time seems to have long disappeared. Tell me, do the gods yet walk this land?"_

_"If they ever did, now is not that time."_

_"Ah."_ The demon seemed to sigh in disappointment,_ "So the Dread Wolf kept his word. It is good to know he is a man who keeps his word, despite the world it has wrought."_

_"What world? And Fen'harel was a beast, not a man."_

The demon chuckled, his dark laughter raising the hairs on the back of her neck, _"Such words, child. You, who never knew him, should not speak so boldly to those of us who did. Fen'harel was as much one as the other, with all the desires of any normal man. Indeed, he had all the same weaknesses too. Pride is such a common fault."_

Pausing for a moment to examine her, the High One shook his head at whatever he found there, _"It will be _your_ pride that will ruin you if you do not heed me now, child of Lavellan."_

_"I do not heed the words of demons."_

_"Then it is a good thing I am not a demon, is it not? Besides, I know what it is you want most. It is not easier to admit it? Do you not wish to return to your beloved, to Numinehn?"_

Her stomach twisted at the sound of Numinehn's name, made her angry and suspicious in equal measure.

_"I do not know how you found that name,"_ She growled, _"But I will not be subjected to the will of a demon in order to buy my freedom."_

_"Subject to my will? No, none of that. I ask for only one thing."_ The demon, the once-elf, crooned as he strode forward, _"Give me the token that carries my master's name. That which carries and finds secrets, the Amulet of Dirthamen."_

_"I do not know the location of such a trinket."_ She took several steps back as she spoke, climbing the stairs out of the watery hall to stand on silver stone. The demon, High One, followed her, his incomplete form phasing through balustrade as he rose to join her.

_"It is no mere trinket, but you do know it. Your companion, Dheron, he wears it around his neck and you-"_

The realization, the words were too much, too knowing, and she could not trust herself to answer with what was the correct course of action.

_"Leave me."_ She commanded, cutting his words short as she raising her hand to threaten use of the green mark upon her hand, _"I refuse your offer. If you want the gem around Dheron's neck, then you can take it yourself."_

The High One went silent, still for a long moment, before finally withdrawing.

_"Very well, child. I will leave now, but remember my offer. I will be here if you have use of me."_

_"You assume I will not destroy you now."_ She pressed, face stern despite her inner turmoil. The demon chuckled at this, and this time the sound was so sinister it echoed in the very bowls of the deepest tower pits.

_"Oh, young elf. I know well enough that you will not. Not when I am the only thing standing between Dheron and the secrets you continue to hold so close to your heart."_

She remained awake that night, mind racing as she remembered the oily whispers of the demon dripping it's poisoned honey into her mind with its promises of freedom. Never before had she understood the temptation of demons until that moment, not truly.

He had promised power to free her, to show her the location of the eluvian and allow her to return to her clan, to Numinehn.

All of this in exchange for the amulet Dheron wore around his neck.

She knew it was an uneven bargain, for even broken the demon had confirmed that the amulet was a token from the age of ancient elves. It would be a powerful tool if it was hers, a dangerous token if it were to ever fall into the hands of the High One.

Glancing over the fire to where Dheron was sleeping, Lavellan felt her unease deepen. He had not acted any differently after the demon had left, but neither had he mentioned the demon either. It was as if he had not seen the ghostly figure at all.

She had tried to broach the subject, but he had simply made mention of the artifact he had found, the one he had weakened with his ritual. Pressing him further had only made him irritable, and that night they had eaten in silence, Dheron stalking away into the tunnels afterwards without so much as a word of explanation.

He had returned after a time, sullen and silent. It had been unlike their previous evenings, but perhaps in this there was a blessing, for he did not search her memories either. There was no mention of their nightly ritual, and when at last he went to sleep it was without further comment.

Whatever had happened between Dheron and the High One was impossible to know for certain. But Lavellan was not content to wait for the hammer to drop. She needed to escape, and she would leave that very night.

Waiting until the fire had burned low, she used the long shadows to her advantage as she crept towards his sleeping form. Closer and closer, she eased herself around the large stone statue of Dirthamen that sheltered her companion from the drip of water, then found herself where she wanted in an instant.

Dheron looked so much less threatening as he slept, but she had learned long ago that even the most gentle in appearance were capable of such precise cruelty. She would never forgive him for what he had done, but neither did she have the heart, or the means, to end his life.

Taking his amulet would be enough.

Her hand closed around it a moment later, felt the icy pinch of the stone against her skin as it made contact. So very near to her goal, all she had to do was ease the coil of string over his head and she would be free to go. But no sooner had she begun when she was interrupted.

"Lavellan?"

Through the haze of dark, she watched as Dheron's eyes opened with a snap. There was a single beat between confusion and realization, a moment in which the world froze. And then, with only a sharp inhale to bolster her, time resumed with a jolt.

She tugged, jerked the amulet and felt the string snap from the force of her gesture. And with the amulet in hand she took off, sprinting through the temple as Dheron's howl of fury filled the evening air.


	10. Reflection

AN: Hello my dears. Another week and another big shift in my life. I ended up having to move for a job, so RL has impacted my writing yet again - but never fear! I am still committed to this fic, so expect at least a chapter a week until wrap up!

Thanks again to all the wonderful people who reviewed last weeks chapter - Halestrom, LilithiaRW, Skidney, FunkyJunkie I'm looking at you guys :)

And another huge shout out to the 150+ followers for this fic. It means a lot to me that so many of your are interested to I hope to keep you on your toes and ready for more. Let me know what you think - I actually had 2 very different endings for this chapter and I'd be interested to hear what you thought.

Enjoy!

~ Voi

* * *

Her lungs burned from exertion, hot and short, they seared her throat as she careened down the hall. Eyes wild, she tried to make sense of the world around her as she ducked around shadows and waterfalls alike. Left, then right around the corner, she paid no mind to the tang of blood in her mouth, the pain that danced across her back.

With his amulet in her possession Dheron had lost any semblance of control, and even now she could hear the sizzle of magic behind her. He was more competent than she might have expected, but no where near the talent of the mages who had been in her company during the fledgling days of the Inquisition. Vivienne, Dorian, and Solas had all the finesse of those who were masters of their craft, Dheron had none of their grace. Rather his attacks were the sort of blunt explosions of temper that indicated great intent but little consideration.

His lack of control was her boon. And though she had sustained some injuries, they were not as bad as they could have been, nor did they hamper her enough to give up her flight to freedom. Still, she had lost track of where she had been running, had used the looping tunnels of the temple for as long as she could before necessity had forced her to the lower levels.

Breathing hard as she jumped over a downed statue, she had only just ducked around a second crumbled sculpture when a flicker of blue light in her peripheral snapped her attention away from her pursuer.

There, on the far wall the blue arced out in the flowing script she recognized. Had she enough time, the urge to properly translate the words would have been an easy enough one to follow. But the burn upon her back was reminder enough, and she drew near only to scan the words, to see if there might be something _more._

Her curiosity was rewarded. No sooner had she crouched beside the wall when in her hand the amulet flared to life, light spilling through the gaps in her fingers as it washed the room in its vibrant hue.

Then she was falling down, through a hole in the ground that had opened with such startling abruptness that she did not even have time to voice her surprise. Further and further she descended, with only the darkness and the cool whip of air on her face and clothes to let her know she was still moving. And in her mind the voices of the well sang, the sweetness of the sound comforting in the dark nothing.

Her trip below ended just as abruptly as it had began. Between one breath and the next was the presence of the ground beneath her feet, the sensation of her legs working to hold her up. But the shadows lingered, clung like spider webs to the corners of the large room in which she found herself.

It was only then, when she stood shrouded in the dark that the amulet flared to life once more, leaving her to do little more than stare in silent wonder as the light glanced off the curled filigree of magnificent arches and illuminated the solitary shape that rose from the center of the room.

Tall and imposing, held above on a dais of glittering black stone, it took a long moment for her to understand what she was looking at. At first she could do little more than blink the dark from her eyes, straining to see what even the amulet seemed hard pressed to illuminate. But then it did, and as she drew closer she found herself looking at her reflection in the shifting not-glass of an ancient mirror, an eluvian.

_The _eluvian. It seemed she had found it after all.

Relief, _disbelief_, bubbled up to mix with the exhaustion of the past few hours. Sighing slowly, deeply, she pressed her forehead to the chilled surface of the mirror, raised her hands so that her palms could touch its smooth surface and be eased as well.

But no sooner had she done so when the surface began to glow, and as she stepped back, the image, _her_ image, rippled and the changed. In her place stood a pair of young elven men, broad shouldered and handsome, their matching blue eyes and sharp features marked them for the twins they were.

And they were familiar these two, strangely so, as if their names might be on the tip of her tongue if she could but _remember_. Given where she was standing, in the Temple of Dirthamen, it was possible that they were Dirthamen and his brother Falon'Din. Lavellan could not claim to be a scholar of the elven pantheon, but she had raised as a proper Dalish and knew her stories.

Still, these two were not likely to be the elven gods. Not unless she had somehow met them in a previous life. She _knew _these two, somehow.

But no sooner had she taken a half-step closer, to examine their features anew when, like before, the mirror began to glow and ripple, replacing the adult figures with images of their younger, softer selves.

It was then that her eyes filled with tears. For she did know them, recognized them, and they were most beloved. Looking at the boy on the right she examined the reserved expression, the quiet intellect behind those dreamer's eyes.

_Numinehn._

She felt her throat tighten as she moved to the other little face and recognized him too. Fierce where his brother was calm, he was a whirlwind, a tempest, the little warrior. And those blue eyes...he shared that distinct color with his father. Twins, she had thought and they were, _her _twins.

_Era'fen_.

Twins, she had thought and she had been correct, for they were twins, but more than that, they were _her _sons.

The memory of her eldest however must have been taken from her, stolen by Dheron, for it was only now she knew, _remembered _him_. _

But to remember her captor seemed to summon him as well, and in the mirror she watched in horror as behind them, her _sons_, the shadows congealed into a twisting mass, sprouting fur the exact color of Dheron's dark locks. Taller and taller it rose, on hind legs to reveal sharp claws and a predator face. But it was only when it opened its eyes, revealing the blood-red color of them, that she made sense of the elongated snout, those sharp teeth, the monstrosity that could only be one being.

_Dread Wolf._

She recognized him in an instant, felt the dual sensations of fear and protectiveness roar to the forefront as he reared back, jaws opening as he began to descend on the reflections of her children.

"No!"

She did not know if this was a vision of what was to pass, or if this was the power of the amulet finally allowing her to see what was in Dheron's deepest thoughts, but she had to stop him. Desperate to save her children, Lavellan thrust her hand and the amulet, towards the mirror.

The reaction was immediate, and yet entirely confusing, for no sooner had her hand touched the mirror when the dark fur bloomed white, exploding the shadows with light until it even overwhelmed the bloody red of its eyes, clearing them until they were blue like the sky before a storm.

"I don't understand." Swallowing the emotions that still ran too close to the surface, Lavellan shook her head, clenched her trembling hands to her side as she watched the image fade. "Are they in danger? Does Dheron intend to go after them?"

"Lavellan?"

She had no recollection of when she had made the transition from one side of the eluvian to the other, but when she turned around there was no denying that she had left the temple of Dirthamen behind.

Instead she found herself in a landscape of soft grey and mist, accompanied by the one man she had tried desperately to avoid. It would have been better had he not been there, but there was nothing she could do now. Not when he stood so immediately behind her, more real than the memories she had of him, more vibrant and _alive _than she dared remember.

"Hello, Solas."

It hurt, to swallow, to speak. The restraint was a near thing, nearly abandoned under the heavy burden of all the questions he had never answered, the pieces of a shattered heart she had never been able to fully piece together. But she did not dare show the weakness she felt so acutely, not again, _never _again.

"You remember." He did not hide the relief in his voice, the almost imperceptible hint of a smile on his lips. "And you are free."

The expression on his face made her heart twinge, but she masked the pang with a noncommittal grunt, glancing around this space that reminded her of the ancient elven crossroads she had visited with Morrigan those many years ago.

"Do any of these paths lead to Wycome?" She asked quietly. There were questions she wished to ask him, but now was not the time and it was likely it would ever be the _right_ time. So she focused on the task at hand, reminded herself of the sons she had waiting for her.

"To Wycome?" He seemed surprised by her request, but answered her readily, "No. I am sorry, they do not. Nowhere close even."

"I see." She tried but could not quite hide the disappointment. Eyes closing for a brief moment, as if to gather what strength she could from the solitude, she took a slow breath before coming to the only decision only she could.

"Please excuse me."

She turned, headed back to the mirror from whence she had just come, back to the temple and back to _Dheron. _If she could not ferry her children out of danger's path then she had to stop it where she new it currently lay in wait.

"Why?" He strode forward, took the position between her and the mirror, knowing there was nothing but trouble waiting for her there, "Why return there?"

"You lost the right to ask that question a long time ago, Solas." She said gently.

"Perhaps I have." He agreed, "But you will be unable to open the way back without me. It requires more power than you have on your own."

He could not know she had the amulet, so she kept her secret a while longer as she studied his fair featured, the concern that had knotted his brow.

His tone grew steelier, steadier with this admission, "Why go back? Why put yourself in danger once more, what _reason _could be worth such a cost?"

She smiled thinly, a mockery of what once had been a full and beautiful gesture reserved solely for him.

"What does it matter? Do you not have your own mission to carry out?" She shrugged, avoided his question once more, "I will not answer just because you wish it."

"Lavellan-" He took a step closer, brows raised in concern, "This makes no sense."

"You _chose _this path, Solas, for the both of us. I did not begrudge your decision though I did not understand it." Her eyes flashed in anger, "You would do well to grant me the same courtesy."

"You are putting yourself needlessly in danger by going back there. For what reason would you do this?"

"The reasons are my own, just as the responsibility to take action is meant for me alone." Stubborn, brave, she looked him in the eye and stood up to him, every inch the leader of the Inquisition.

"You know I cannot let you do this, vhenan."

The word, _that _word of endearment made her blanch so quickly she nearly felt faint. And though she could see Solas regretted using it, the damage was done.

"Of all the things you are forbidden to call me, that is the most serious of them." The words came out of her mouth as a stricken whisper, "Do _not _call me that, again. It is too cruel, even for you."

"I..." Solas swallowed, turned from her in regret, "I am sorry."

"Then let me go and leave me be." Turning back to where the mirror stood, she had not yet taken a step when she felt his hand brush the top of her shoulder, just above where she knew the skin was burned.

"You are injured." He pointed out quietly, "If you insist on going back into danger then at least let me heal the worst of it. It is...the least I can do."

It hurt still, her injury, but with so many other concerns, it was a low priority, low enough that she could not be bothered even now. It helped that the taste of blood had long since washed from her mouth.

"It is not so bad that I cannot fight." She knew her limits, was veteran enough to gauge her body and the trial ahead, "Besides I do not have time for healing, nor the means to carry additional flasks."

"Then take this before you go," He handed her a bottle, one she recognized from their travels; elfroot. The simple flask brought with it memories, too many to be considered now of all times.

"I - " She swallowed in the face of his quiet compassion, his innate practicality, "Very well. But it cannot be more than this, _no _healing spells."

He remained silent, merely watched as she removed the stopper and downed the contents in a single gulp. It did not taste as it should have, and her eyes snapped opened the moment her brain made sense of what her tongue had tasted.

"Solas, what have you done?!"

She threw the flask to the ground, made for the eluvian immediately, but it was already too late for she had downed the potion completely. The heaviness in her limbs was already beginning, the seductive call of sleep and solitude an impossible song to ignore.

"Wha-" She turned on him then, her expression furious as her weakening legs gave way, leaving her to collapse into his embrace.

"How could you?!" Disbelief colored her vice as she grew increasingly more frantic, hating the way her body betrayed the weariness she had held at bay for so long.

"I am sorry, Lavellan."

Eyes clouded in sorrow, he looked down at her, cradled her head against his shoulder as he held her close. It was made all the worse by the soft glow of magic and the cooling touch of his hand upon her burned back. Healing her, disregarding her requests, following his own agenda. It was as if the years had rolled back and she was watching him leave her all over again.

"Why?!" She growled, snapped at him like a little she-wolf, sounding so much like her usual self it almost made him smile. Still, she fought the pull of sleep with every shred of stubbornness she possessed. She _would not _yield. Not now. Not to this.

But she _was _losing, her _body _was losing. Like holding back the tide, it was as impossible as taking the moon from the sky. But still she struggled, still she refused.

"Why? _Answer me, Solas_." She felt tears gather in the corner of her eyes, frustration and anger and _hurt _making them spill down her cheeks though that too shamed her.

"It is, I am..." He paused as he gathered his thoughts, looked to the eluvian and then back at her, "I am not as strong as I thought. And losing you," He shook his head, sighed, "It does not matter now. It is done and I am not sorry for it."

He tried to smile, but the look in his eyes told her he knew the cost of what he had done to her, what this final betrayal had broken irrevocably. Brushing the tears from her face he pressed on soft kiss to her forehead before pulling away, his eyes lingering until hers fluttered shut.

"When you wake up, this will all be over," he promised.

And though the words were meant to be comforting, she felt only the ache of a wound re-opened and the knowledge that even now he did not trust her with the truth.


	11. Cost

AN: Have I told you all that you guys/gals are the best? Because you are - seriously. That last chapter go such a huge boost of comments and interest that it made me grin like a fool. All the confusion, all the 'say what?!' was the most rewarding thing because I knew I had written it to be misleading.

I promise I will explain all in time (and if not, feel free to point out what's missing and I'll fix it). But before I get to the flashbacks for Lavellan (which will hopefully explain what's happened in the past few years), I have one last twist for you.

That being said - I'm starting to think that given THIS particular twist, I may have to make one more fic to deal with this new arc, but please let me know what you think. I really respect what you guys have to say - and if you would prefer I just add the arc to this story then I will listen.

Thanks again you guys - you're making it such a fun journey :)

Best,

Voi

* * *

Solas sat in silence for a long while after Lavellan had succumb to his sleeping draught. His deception might not have been the most elegant solution, but it was effective and harder to counter than a spell might have been. Neither of which would make _her_ any happier when she awoke.

In truth, Lavellan's decision to turn back to the eluvian had panicked him. It made no sense,_ of course it did not,_ but having seen her brought so low after all of her victories against Corypheus had twisted something inside him. Something he had tried to ignore without success.

_ Vhenan._

She still owned his heart completely. Whether she wanted it or not, he was helpless to remove her hold on him. But that did not give him the right to do what he had just done, and he knew that he had shattered whatever small margin of trust that had remained between them.

They had not parted in anger the last time, it seemed impossible to imagine she would not be upset now. Still, if he had his way, she would be free of whatever lurked behind that mirror.

The knowledge that she was safe once more would be worthy of such a cost.

He exhaled roughly at the thought, the ache deepening as he glanced down at the woman who slept soundly against his chest. Peaceful, he would have gladly spent an age simply watching her chest rise and fall with breath, feeling the warmth of her against him.

But it was not to be had, for even now he remembered the intensity of her expression, the fervor with which she tried to return to the eluvian.

_What had she seen that had made her so adamant?_

Quiet, contemplative, his serene features masked a roiling mind and an even more volatile temper. If she had but answered his questions he could have helped her. But she had refused his help, had dismissed him as easily as a child. _That_ had stung, though he could find no fault in her logic. It seemed he would forever be both impressed and frustrated by this woman, torn between respecting her decision and ignoring her wishes to protect her.

He should have allowed her to return through the mirror, should have simply ignored her request and followed her to confront whatever was waiting.

Age was supposed to bring wisdom. The experience was meant to temper hot-headed decisions and rash action. But it seemed these insights did nothing to quiet the anger that continued to simmer just below the surface. Since he had first found her token in the Fade it had only grown more potent.

Still, he was not a man easily lent to viciousness and the last time he had done so had been...

_Blood and screaming, the loss of control, of conscious thought replaced by the instinctual drive to kill and maim and hurt those that had wounded him._

_His best friend was dead, murdered, and there was no longer a leash to hold him, no means to temper the vicious instincts of the beast_.

Solas stared down at his Lavellan with sightless eyes, lost in the memory.

_Blood soaked but victorious, his howling laughter filled the vaulted ceilings of the temple as bodies lay where they had fallen. They who were guilty of such heinous acts had chosen to blame _him_, and he had answered their mockery with his own brand of justice._

_'Fen'Harel?'_

_Upon the steps of the temple he met one of the few left who might yet be reasoned with. Dressed in the deep blue robes of his caste, the other man bowed respectfully as he approached._

_'Hello, priest.' Fen'harel grinned, propping his hands on his hips, as he eyed the man 'Have you come to kill me too?'_

_He bore the wounds of many betrayals and expected many more before he was done._

_'No,' the priest shook his head 'I came to offer you a means to control that beast.'_

_'Control it?' He had laughed, sneered, 'Why would I want to control it?'_

_'You are not as cold as you seem, Dread Wolf, my master has told me to remind you that you need not be the animal they insist you are.'_

_The truth of the words, the hurt, made him pause._

_'Dirthamen sent you.'_

_The priest smiled, shrugged, 'He knew you would need support, a reminder that you are not as alone as you might believe. And he wanted to provide what help he could. He...suspected this might happen.'_

_Suspected and done nothing. Fen'harel bit back his anger, knowing it was Dirthamen's way to stay removed from the goings on of the People._

_'You mean to offer me one of your many secrets then.'_

_'Of a kind.' The man brushed his fingers along the surface of his amulet, and the deep color of it flashed once before beginning to glow._

_Fen'harel stared at it for a long moment before meeting the man's steady gaze with his own sharp one._

_'What did you have in mind?'_

Solas' fingers caught in the tangled threads of the knot in his pocket. And like a net it pulled him from the stormy sea of thought, of memory. Looking down at the silken tethers of what had once been a Lover's Knot he contemplated the meaning he found there before pocketing it once more.

_It was time._

Regardless of his reservation, he needed to act.

Slowly, gently, he eased Lavellan's sleeping form from his shoulder, pillowing her head with the folded edge of his spare cloak. Watching as she settled, he allowed himself a small gesture of affection, brushing the silken strands of her hair behind her ear, before he turned to leave.

It was then that he finally noticed it. A glint of pale light on the cracked surface of the gem, he bent down to examine the stone locked in her grasp and felt the shock to his system as if it were a physical thing.

The Amulet of Dirthamen. It was the same amulet the priest had used to help him those many centuries ago.

He recognized it immediately, but there was no making sense of its appearance there in her hand. Not now.

How could it have found its way to him?

He did not believe in fate, refused to believe that coincidence had brought this particular gem into his possession. But...he looked down at Lavellan and felt his heart ache as the pieces fell unerringly into place.

_You are Mythal's creature now. Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her. You have given up a part of yourself._

He had said those words to her after the Well of Sorrows, to warn her, but never had it dawned on him that this would be how it would manifest. Compelled by powers outside her comprehending, her every action had brought her a step closer to him once more, brought the amulet within his reach.

_I am sorry._

And because he was taking her amulet, he drew the cord from around his neck. But it was not the wolf-bone that he gave, rather it was the token she had given him those many years ago, the partner to her own tangled knot. Drawn from beneath his tunic, it shone of silver thread and careful work, as perfect now as it had been when she had first gifted it to him. Tucking it into her hand, he curled her fingers around the token, and set that hand upon her breast, close to her heart.

_Forgive me. _

He pressed his lips to her fist before stepping back, taking Dirthamen's amulet with him to stand before the eluvian. His decision had been made for him, his guilt the catalyst to propel him forward.

And as he looked down the glassy surface of the stone, noting his pale reflection and the expression on his face, he realized that once more Lavellan had provided the means for his continued journey. First she had stopped Corypheus, and now this. The thought brought him no peace and despite the amulet's power he felt no glow of victory, no relief.

Still, he knew the path he had to walk. And so he swallowed past the tightness in his throat to begin the first of the incantations as the priest had taught. Despite the years , the words came to his lips with as much fluidity as the first time he had spoken them.

And as he spoke he remembered how at the behest of Dirthamen's priest he had locked away his bloodlust, the worst of his temper and the animal instincts that thrived on conflict. He had handed over the very thing that was his namesake.

_Dread Wolf._

Knowledge was power, and this power had been too dangerous to be anything less than a secret, kept safe by the greatest of secret-keepers. Now he needed that power returned.

He finished the incantation in a rush of sound that twisted into a growl and filled the misty abyss with a rumble. And with the final syllable came a flash of blue, the faint sensation of a key sliding into a lock and turning.

About to unlock and unleash a monster. He cast one last, lingering gaze at the woman who slept peacefully upon the ground, his token in her hand. And then he was through the mirror, standing in the dark of the temple just as the key finished turning and the lock slid smoothly open.

The power exploded in the hall, fire and rage as above it loomed the enormous red eyes of the beast, all of it expanded for a single second and then contracted, spiraling downward into the mage that had once housed it's endless rage, unfurling a magic so resonant that the very temple around him trembled with it.

Freed from centuries of confinement, the Dread Wolf _howled_ and whatever reservations Solas had once disappeared amidst a haze of blood and the overwhelming, undeniable instinct of a predator.


	12. Always

AN: And here it is - the series of memories that will (hopefully) clear up some of the confusion created in the last couple of chapters!

Thanks again to all the wonderful people who wrote me and added this fic to their faves/follows. It means a lot that 170+ of you are interested in these characters and the plot, so thanks again for being taking the time to give this fic a read :)

As an aside - because all of these moments are memories - and the whole chapter is made up of one or another, I've decided not to set them in italics. I tried but it just made for a tougher reading experience. Just wanted to give you a heads up

Much love,

~Voi

* * *

She dreamt as she slept, about Halamshiral and the dance they had shared, about the night that had followed. It had seemed like a dream back then, so beautiful it had seemed unreal; as she relived the moment it remained that way.

Soft and gauzy, her bedroom was awash in the silver glow of the moon, scented by fat candles and the exotic perfumes that lay upon the windowsill in glittering crystal decanters. Furnished with all sorts of luxuries, silk bedding and the opulent damask of far-off places, the light caught on the intricate whorls of wood, the fine detailing of Orlesian lace and glinted like veilfire across the painting that covered the largest of the room's paneled screens.

But for the two figures who lay entwined upon the thick furs of the floor, the smooth texture of their not-bed was luxury enough, and the warmer woodier scent of the roaring winter hearth was a more preferable fragrance than any bottle of oil.

_"Solas." _

Cheeks flushed, lips tender from hours spent in ardent exploration, Lavellan sighed in contentment as the last little shocks left her body warm, replete, loved. Eyes closed beneath her tangled sweat-soaked hair, she smiled when she felt his warm hand settled at her waist, masculine fingers splaying wide as he pressed tender kisses along the elegant curve of her spine, from her lower back to where he lingered at the nape of her neck.

Slow, luxuriating in the texture of her skin and the tang of salt against his tongue, he took his time answering her.

"Yes, vhenan?"

She heard the amusement in his voice, felt it in the warm teasing whisper of his breath against her ear. Opening her eyes, she glanced at him shyly as his arm wrapped around her, drew her closer, until she could feel the strong planes of his chest against her back.

"You liked that, didn't you?" She sounded slightly scandalized, but couldn't help the shiver of pleasure that the memory conjured so easily. What they had done had been...she flushed, he was a _very capable _lover.

"Hmm?" He grinned, roguish twist of his lips making him all the more handsome as he leaned forward, "Indeed. There was quite a bit to like."

His fingers brushed the tip of her ear, smoothed the edge, "Did you?"

"Oh yes." She shifted, turned so that she could face him. "You know, for as long as this lasts, I want you know that I am _happy_."

"'As long as this last'?" The words were repeated back to her with a frown.

"Now who is being grim and fatalistic?" He chided, tracing her bottom lip with a finger, eyes flickering towards the serious for a moment as he studied her face.

"Well, seeing as how I got you into my bed, it only seemed fair that I share some of your burden."

"Indeed?" Eyebrows raised, Solas gave her a look, "Because I was rather under the impression that we were on a rug...unless this is the Dalish equivalent of a bed?"

She laughed then, swatted his shoulder as she rolled to her knees. "You are lucky you are so attractive or I would be _offended_."

"Is this the part where you tell me you only like me for my body and not my mind?" His lazy smile was followed by a look of mock outrage made her laugh again.

"I have a very high opinion of your body." She admitted with a grin, "But given what we've been up to for the past several hours...those were the product of your _mind _as much as body. So I think my esteem of your mind is higher still."

"Minx." He said affectionately, "Come here."

"Where? Down there on the _bed_?" She raised on brow, gestured to the rug.

"No...down here." Pulling her down, he laughed when she squealed, lush little body fitting against him perfectly. His laughter was something she knew she would remember until the end of her days. Warm and golden, it had been like sitting before the hearth fire and feeling its glow upon her face.

She allowed him to tuck her back at his side, savoring the masculine scent of him and the way the lean muscles of his body complimented her smaller, softer figure. It was comfortable being with him this way, as natural as breathing.

"Will it always be like this?" she asked many moments later as she nuzzled his shoulder, sleepy and lulled by the heat of the fire, by the warmth of his body beside her.

"Between us?" He turned to look at her, eyes soft, lips curved into a tender smile that even now was still just the smallest bit sad, "Yes, vhenan."

She paused, considered his words and felt her heart twist as she imagined the world outside their room. " Solas, what if tomorrow-"

He stopped her with a kiss, a slow, melting, meeting of mouths, of slow exploration rather than heated sating of desire. It was a promise and a declaration all at once.

"For me," he vowed, "It will be like this, _always_."

The dream changed then, twisted into a grey land slicked with rain and hurt and heartache. She knew the feeling, recognized this particular brand of loss by the way her lungs struggled to draw breath, as if someone was trying to smother her with a pillow upon her lips.

A week since he had left and she could still make no sense of it.

_For me, it will be like this always. _

The memory of his words burned her now, wounded more deeply than any blade had cut, chilled her worse than any ice spell. No number of blankets could warm her, no fire burned bright enough to melt away the edge of frost that had claimed a portion of her heart.

But if there was a means to save what was left of it then she had only look at far as her belly. Brushing the soft fabric of her tunic over the small but telltale bump, she paused in her thoughts to consider her situation once more.

A _child. _

The knowledge had surprised her, thrilled her though she knew it was a complication to her role as Inquisitor. Not that she would be alone in caring for the child, nearly every member of the Inquisition had gone out of their way to support her. But if she was being honest, the shock of her discovery had only made _his _loss all the more sharp.

They had never discussed children, with the threat of Corypheus there seemed little point in indulging in more than what small happiness they had found. She had _dreamed _about such things of course, had allowed herself the sort of silly flights of fancy when she was alone and all was quiet.

But now...

"Waking, waiting, wanting the bed beside you warm with his body. His arm around your waist like it was, golden in the firelight. Together, but now you are alone."

The familiar voice, cadence of his words, identified him even before she turned to look. Their time together had made his uncomfortably personal commentary less shocking, but in this case, did nothing to lessen the pain.

"Hello, Cole."

She spotted him at her desk, watching her with that curiously vacant look that told her he was looking more deeply into her than she might have liked.

"You stand by yourself, there is only you and yet...his heart, _your _heart grows something precious in your belly and it hurts but it is not all a bad hurt."

Cole's eyes cleared but his brow furrowed in confusion as he looked around the room, "You are alone but _not_. There is...more of you?"

It was then that she understood what he was getting at. Smiling wanly, Lavellan pressed her open hand to her middle, "A baby. I am pregnant."

_"Oh_."

He breathed the word with reverence, and then his face was alight, eyes bright, lips cracking into a wide smile as he jumped nimbly from the desk to crouch down and stare upon her bump, "You are happy, in love already though you do not know them."

"Them?" Lavellan jerked straight, both hands flying to frame her belly, "There is _more _than one?"

"Two lights, glinting, glowing, like the fireflies in the garden." Cole's pale hands fluttered in the dim of her room as if to illustrate his point, "They were once one but now they are two. Bright enough to make the darkness hesitate."

"Twins?" She inhaled sharply, felt the tears threaten more strongly now than they had in the past few days, felt her lips tremble even as she tried to steady her quaking heart.

"Don't cry." Straightening as he spoke, Cole's hands settled on her shoulders and gently squeezed, "They will love you, too. You will not have to be alone again."

His wide-eyed innocence, the purity and sweetness of him made her melancholy dissolve in that moment.

"Oh, Cole." Touched beyond words she looked at him with a hint of a smile, "Thank you."

The dream changed again, blurring days and months, the long lonely days and the quieter moments of acceptance, of slow-building joy that accompanied the growth of her children.

And then pain, agony, _so much blood_ , and the sound of her screams as she brought her children, her sons, into the world.

Era'fen, her eldest, came into the world with a howl befitting his name. A son of strength, she had gazed upon him and named him for the token his father had worn, the wolf that even now lingered in her dreams.

But it was her second son, that had been born on a whimper, had very nearly faded before he could burn bright.

Numinehn, it meant tears of joy. She had named him when at last he was in her arms, small and squalling and _whole_, as the tears had run down her cheeks. He was her little miracle.

Now, many weeks later she found herself kept up by the thoughts she had hoped would leave her be. Ignoring them as best as possible, she focused instead on the almost imperceptible inhale and exhale of the twins while they slept.

She brushed their little heads with the tips of her fingers, charmed once more by the tawny, almost-red color of their not-bald heads. _Lights, _Cole had called them, it certainly seemed as if they had firelight for hair.

But firelight reminded her of _that night_, and before she could control it, her thoughts turned to _him _once more.

_He should have been there, should have held his sons and named them_ _himself._

Tears and bouts of strong emotion had come more easily in her pregnancy, it seemed that even now the threat of them loomed forebodingly on the horizon. But she could not cry now, could not afford to. There were two small lives that needed careful tending, needed strength.

"Hello, darling." Dorian appeared in her doorway, dressed for bed in his long sleeping robe, "Lost in less than pleasant thoughts, are you?"

Her wounded eyes found his in the dim light and answered well enough, drawing him forward until one large hand was out and gently clasping her shoulder in support.

"Come along, Lav", His dark eyes watching her knowingly. "It is well past _your _bedtime. Time for you to get your beauty sleep."

"I'm just waiting for Cole, he watches the boys at night, says he _has _to because he doesn't have to sleep and the rest of us do."

"Cole is off spending time with the rabbits in the forest tonight."

Had she not recently told the young spirit that particular story about life with her clan, she doubted he would have been so captivated.

"You sneaky man. You used the rabbits to get your way, didn't you?" She sighed as she slowly eased herself down to the edge of her bed.

"Indeed." There was a flicker of a smile on his face, "It _is_ Uncle Dorian's turn after all. I just couldn't resist their little faces, so here I am."

She watched for any sign of dishonesty but saw only good humored truth.

"Come on, Lav. Give yourself some time to rest. You're looking worn around the edges, and that is not something I like to see in a best friend."

"If they wake-"

"I'll be the first one to wake you, _believe me_." He made a face, "I do not _do _crying, children or adults. Can you imagine what those tears would do to my cloak? And the _noise..." _

He shuddered, "You will be _informed_, I promise. Besides, you are not meant to do this alone."

His words hit too close to home, brushed against the fissure in her heart that she had kept closed with only the finest threads of control.

"I-"

She took one short, sharp breath, and felt the emotion catch as her strength failed her completely. Hurt boomed, and the room swam as her eyes filled with tears.

Standing suddenly, she did her best to contain her sudden emotion as she turned quickly away and strode to the window. Focusing on the stained glass, she forced air into her lungs with the single minded focus of one on the precipice of drowning.

But when Dorian's arms, warm and supportive drew around her, she knew her cause was lost.

"Forgive me, darling," he turned her until she could look him in the eye, "That was insensitive."

Months of struggling, to be resilient and strong, shuddered in the face of his compassion. Breathing roughly, she blinked fiercely as she tried to contain the traitorous tears that continued to fall.

"I -" She exhaled once, twice, before taking a jagged inhale, "It's _ok_."

"No it's not." Dorian's eyes filled with sorrow, with understanding, "But you're doing an admirable job and we are behind you every step of the way."

And that was when she lost all sense of control, of decorum, as the strength of her body fled and she was left to clutch at his shoulders as the terrible agony of loss bent her till breaking. Stifling the sound of her sobbing with a hand, she doubled over as if she might cut the feeling off in the pit of her stomach, might prevent the agony from reaching her heart.

But it was too much, it was _all _too much to do alone and she wept until Dorian took her huddled form to the couch and held her close.

"Oh Dorian, I miss him so much."

Face buried against his shoulder, she trembled as she took deep gulps of air, struggled to contain the emotions that were quickly threatening to overcome her once more.

"I know dearest." He rubbed small circles on her narrow back, comforting as spoke, "And I think that if he could have been here then he certainly would have. A man like your Solas would not have left unless there was any other way."

"I know." She said the words and for the first time realized she meant it, understood it.

_I know_.

But that didn't meant she would forgive, nor forget. And if ever the father of her children came back into her life then it would be a long road back indeed. She would never prevent him from seeing the little lives he had helped create, but she would sooner cut out her own heart then let him treat their children the way he had treated her.

Without explanation, without consideration.

She swallowed hard as she felt Dorian tug the end of her braid, felt her heart quake in her chest as the small smile of encouragement he gave her.

But she could not forget _his_ words, for they had been true for her as well. Even when she met him again, recognized him in the Fade caught between confusion and memory, it had been _the truth_.

_For me_ _it will be like this, always. _

She woke with tears in her eyes, and his token, his _heart _, in her hand.


	13. Truth

AN: Thanks to everyone who has supported this fic thus far. It's been such a pleasure to continue to write and hear back, so THANK YOU for everything.

I suspect this first arc of the story will be wrapping up shortly, but have yet to figure out if it will continue in its own book or just keep rolling here. If you have a preference please let me know.

Warning: This chapter does get a bit dark - so please be aware. There is mention of physical harm and various nastiness. Please let me know if you think I should bump up the rating accordingly.

Otherwise I'll let this chapter speak for itself - enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

Dheron had been in the middle of an angry tirade when the double doors to the hall opened. Under the circumstances it should have blown open with the force of a hurricane, sending the weathered iron crashing into all manner of ancient statuary. But instead it swung very smoothly open, revealing a plainly dressed apostate and his staff.

"Oh, hello." The man, an older elven man, appeared at the top of the platform as he peered down into the shadowy below, "Have I interrupted something? My apologies."

He seemed ordinary enough, but standing there, wreathed in shadow and the blue of veilfire, he seemed almost like an emperor, standing upon his holy dais as he surveyed his kingdom. There was an unmistakable straightness to his posture, a noble carriage to his being.

Dheron recognized him the moment the he had spoken, had noted the bald head and pale skin and _knew_ him. But when at last their eyes met, there was a momentary hesitation at what he found there, a difference he had not expected.

Were they not supposed to be blue? Clear and bright, the memories he had taken from Lavellan had shown as much. Instead, he found them dark, black as the void, and unsettlingly cold.

Perhaps it was the shadows of the temple, playing tricks with the light, but there was only one way to know for sure.

"You?!"

Rising from his kneeling position, he crossed the room quickly, eagerly, to approach the man he had pursued for three years. And in that moment it did not matter that Lavellan was no where to be found, that her lover was inexplicably here in the temple. All that mattered was that once more his devotion had been answered, and he was on the cusp of achieving the goal he had chased for so long. That little detail about his eyes seemed so _very unimportant_ when he was finally face-to-face with the man in question.

"It is you! Dread Wolf be praised, my prayers have been answered!"

His words might have offended some, the more cautious of the Dalish certainly, but given this man's distinctly unmarked face it seemed reasonable he wouldn't care. After all, any elf who removed their vallaslin was hardly committing themselves to Dalish ideals. And if he were a flat-ear, then it was doubtful he knew enough about the elven pantheon to be insulted either.

Like Lavellan, her lover was a traitor to his people. But what did it matter when there was ancient magic to be had, to be mastered by one of the _true_ People?

"You have been looking for me?" The question was asked with the sort of even-toned confidence of one who already knew the answer and was not impressed.

"Yes." Dheron wouldn't apologize for his actions, but neither could he risk angering the man. If he was to get what he wanted then he needed to be cautious, had to be careful. He was painfully aware of the disadvantage he faced with the loss of his amulet.

"That is why you bothered _her_."

There was no need to ask who the woman in question was, there was only one who the other elf could mean. But how this other elf knew what had happened between Dheron and Lavellan was as much a mystery as his uncommon magic.

"Yes. I thought you might come looking for Lavellan." When his response was met with a slight frown, Dheron struggled on, "I didn't harm her. I was just trying to find you really."

There was something unsettling in the way the other man stood, the way he moved now as he took several towards a low pile of rubble. It was like watching a predator, all slow movement and easy strides.

Dheron cleared his throat, pushed back against the fear that was slowly sowing ice in his belly, "Lavellan would not even tell me your name or-"

"Solas." He spoke the word, the name as he settled down on the broken statuary.

Dheron jerked, blinked, "I'm sorry?"

"My name is Solas. I am here, now. If you are willing to answer some of my questions then I would be happy to answer any you may have."

"I-" It was more than he could have hoped for, more than he _dared._ "That would be wonderful."

"Very well then. Shall we begin?" Solas folded his hands in his lap, staff propped up beside him, "What is your name."

"Dheron Ehnuven."

"Clan Ehnuven is an old one indeed." The older elf nodded, "Tell me, does your keeper know you are here? As the First it seems unusual that he would allow you to leave given the recent trouble with the Breach."

"Keeper Uhren gave me the Amulet and said I must-" Dheron broke off, suddenly wary, "I would not discuss clan business with a stranger."

_A traitor. One who is not of the People._

The judgmental sneer was left unsaid, but Dheron could not quite wipe the expression from his face.

Solas' lips pressed into a thin smile, "If you desire the knowledge I have, the secrets I keep, then you will share news of your clan."

Dheron considered the offer, licked his lips as he weighed the benefits.

"He said I had to use the amulet and find someone to unlock what was within. That it would bring power back to us, the People. A guardian to herald a new age."

"A herald..." The word seemed to make Solas smile, but it was an ironic sort of expression, as if it pained him to hear it as much as say it, "And that was why you sought me out?"

"Yes- to meet you! Because you have a magic the Dalish have not seen for generations." Dheron's eagerness drove him forward, animated his arms so that they gestured wildly, "You removed Lavellan's vallaslin. I saw you in the grove with her several years ago. It was ancient magic you used, it _had_ to be."

And then, because he had not truly asked a question, Dheron said, "Was it? The spell you wove, was I right?"

"Indeed." Solas nodded, "I imagine it is the oldest you have seen. A simple spell, but yes, its root are ancient."

"Would you teach it to me?"

"Perhaps," Solas shrugged, "But such knowledge is worth a great deal. You would need to answer more questions."

"Very well." Blinded by ambition, by greed, Dheron agreed in an instant, never sensing the dark chuckle that rippled in the deep.

"Good." The rich timber of the other's voice was warm with approval, and Dheron basked in it.

"Now then. Why did you take Lavellan with you? Why capture her?"

This question was sharper than the others, edged in a temper that put the younger elf on edge. Uneasy, Dheron glanced around the room for a moment as he sought to buy time. The truth was an ugly thing, something that only other Dalish would understand. Since he was trying to avoid such a confrontation, Dheron struggled to find another answer.

"I-I answered that question already," Protesting weakly, Dheron flinched beneath his would-be mentor's steady gaze.

"No, my first question was about why you _bothered_ her. I am now asking why you _took_ her, as if she were some sort of prize." Despite the probing nature of the question, the tone of the question was moderate, lacking the temper Dheron might have expected.

"I..." He could feel his panic rise, as the truth threatened to bubble up.

"Why was it that you used the power of the amulet to manipulate her?"

"Well you see..." Struggling to craft a coherent, acceptable answer, Dheron floundered.

"And why, was it that you never even bothered to ask her for help. To see if she might be willing to aid you?"

It was that question that proved a step too far, for no sooner had it been asked when Dheron's anxiety congealed into truth, into _hatred_ and it came spewing from his mouth in a torrent of bitterness and disgust.

"I did it because she is a _traitor_ to the Dalish! Not one of the People, not now and never again!" Furious, the words spilled out without any hope of stopping, hemorrhaging until all of it was bled from him, "She lost the right to consideration, to being treated an equal, when she agreed to have her vallaslin removed. No matter the reason, she abandoned her heritage, and that _could not_ be forgiven!"

The words rocked the quiet of temple, cast the silence in such sharp contract to the sudden burst of noise that the words rang in the vastness of a long while afterwards.

"_That_ is why you took her?"

The question was posed as mildly as the others had been. But for the second time Dheron felt a twinge of unease as he stared at that inscrutable face, those eyes that were too-dark and dead to belong to a living being.

Swallowing hard, Dheron shook his head, but refused to apologize. Pride refused to let him bend now.

"She is not of the Dalish." He asserted, "Not any more."

Speaking carefully, precisely, Solas stared back at the young man and seemed to lean in ever so slightly as he did so, "Tell me, did you hear anything of the Herald of Andraste?"

Dheron frowned, face still flushed from his outburst, "There were murmurs of an elven woman who closed the breach."

"And would you say she was a traitor?"

"She is the figurehead for a _shemlen_ religion. Of course she would be." Dheron fumed anew at the thought, "The Dalish are trying to preserve what has not yet been lost. Every one of them, those that abandon our ways, they are worse than the shems who attack us."

"And would you consider me a traitor to the Dalish?"

"I-" Dheron swallowed, "You don't have vallaslin."

"That is true," Solas nodded, "But I have never worn them either."

"Then you grew up in the human cities?"

Neither thought sat well with him, with Dheron, so it was a small measure of relief when again the older man shook his head.

"No, I did not grow up in human cities either.

"But you learned ancient magic. Surely you learned from another Dalish Keeper, or perhaps found a well like the one that gave Lavellan her abilities."

"The Well?" Solas paused, "Oh I see. No, it was through no power of a well either."

"Then how?"

The older elf's lips quirked into another half-smile, "That is question I do not think you truly want answered."

"But of course it is." The words were upon Dheron's lips, in the air, before sense had the chance to stop him. The darkness still lingered too near, the echo of his angry words still reverberated in the temple's far corners, but his ambition rang louder still.

"I'll give you one last chance to rescind the question." Solas said quietly, "It is my final warning."

_"No."_

Standing firm in the face of doubt, Dheron challenged the bare-faced elf with every ounce of his Dalish blood, " I prayed to the God Fen'harel for the secrets you might carry. I would accept them now, in whatever form they might be."

"Indeed?" Solas smiled then, but this was no warm expression. His lips curved into a shape as sharp as any knife and the subtle glimmer in his eye promised something else altogether, "Very well then, shall we begin?"

"Yes." Dheron breathed the word.

And in that moment, the tables turned completely as magic erupted around them both, blue like veilfire, searing the surroundings with such energy that the water began to steam. But it was not the water that screamed, and it was not the _water _that began to bleed and blister.

"Dread Wolf save me!"

Screaming in agony, Dheron tried to run, tried to leave the room but found his legs immobilized by invisible forces beyond his seeing. And when he tried to summon water, ice, snow, his hands and his powers grasped at nothing.

But the pain, though it was physical, did not reflect the agony he felt so keenly within his body. There was fire, but it seemed a gentle caress upon his skin compared to the violence that was done beneath his skin.

"Fen'harel," He begged his divine protector, screamed the words between great shuddering breaths, "Save your loyal servant."

His agonized groans for help were met with laughter, a chuckle that filled his burning veins with ice and fear, rending them nearly in two at the nauseating sensations of hot and cold warred in his tattered body.

"Oh I hear you, little elf." Solas' voice was light, almost friendly, as he responded, "And I tell you now, I _care not_."

"W-what?"

From beneath sweat soaked hair, Dheron managed to crack open on of his eyes, straining to look up to where Solas was now standing, eyes sharp as obsidian shards.

"You prayed to me you miserable excuse of a man." There was an terrible fury beneath that mild tone, a dark anger that roiled just beneath the surface, "You prayed to _ME_ and I have answered you more directly than any other."

"Dread Wolf?" Dheron looked at the other elf and shook his head in denial, "No, _it cannot be_. _You_ cannot be."

Solas snarled then, at Dheron's denial and arrogance, as his temper snapped up for a moment, revealing a fury that had not known its equal for centuries. And the magic flared, twisted upon itself and burned anew until Dheron was screaming once more.

"I can, and I _am_. And I will take my payment for what you have done in my name."

Dheron whimpered, writhed on the ground to escape the flames that seemed trapped beneath his skin.

"You harmed her, you miserable fool. You who _dared_ call her unfit." There was no missing the warning in Solas' voice now, a protectiveness that Dheron should have realized was there from the start.

"She is more _of the People_ than any I have ever met. And I will have my vengeance for what you have done."

"But you need not worry." Solas crooned softly, "All will be as you wished. You will know the Dread Wolf better than anyone still living. This is my promise to you Dheron Ehnuven. Before the end you will know me better than _anyone_."

Solas' smile was dark and terrible, a blackness that matched the soulless void of his eyes.

"I-I am so sorry!" Dheron whimpered, begged for forgiveness as he tried to drag his body across the room, away from the mild mannered elf who tortured him so easily, so effortlessly.

Desperate to get away, to stop the terrible sensation of burning and dying and hurt, he babbled, shouted all the secrets he had to share. About Lavellan, about the well, about...

"I promise I was never going to go after them. I know you probably thought I was, but I wouldn't - they're just children so I wouldn't- "

"Children?"

The pain stopped. For a single blessed beautiful second the sensation of fire and death _stopped_ as the question was posed again. But this time it was Solas who felt as if he had been gutted, run through cleanly, like a sword through the chest.

Solas' world narrowed on the word and tilted, "Say that again."

Demanding of his prisoner, he felt no remorse when the man sobbed, felt nothing when he looked at the tear-streaked face and skin that was discoloring from the magic he had cast upon him.

"I promise I would have left them alone." The younger elf whimpered, "The twins, I-I didn't even consider-"

Children. Twins.

_Lavellan had children, was a mother._

It made sense then. Solas thought back to that moment in the Between and recognized Lavellan's decision for what it was. The iron determination to return to the ruin, to end whatever threat this man posed. She had not done it for herself, had scarcely given self-preservation a thought. But she _had_ been thinking of her children, the danger they must have been in, and that had been reason enough to turn back.

She was a mother now. Solas' stomach clenched as he closed his eyes and accepted the news as fact.

She was a _mother_, and this bastard had very likely planned on using that against her.

The realization was more than Solas was ready for, the rage more than he could control, and with a sudden unmistakable roar his temper manifested itself. And though his fingers dove into his pocket, to loop the tangled threads of her token, to anchor himself amidst the tempest that swallowed his consciousness, he knew he could not stop the Dread Wolf from completing his course.

Dheron's screams could be heard for miles.


	14. Revelation

AN: Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd and review the last chapter. I was thrilled by the response and it sounds like dark/protective/angry Solas has quite the following! I'll be sure to keep that in mind for the future chapters.

Also, like I mentioned before, we're coming to the end of the first story arc - so be sure to let me know what you'd prefer. Should I split it into another fic or just keep it all here.

Thanks again - it's been such a pleasure to write this!

Enjoy,

~Voi

* * *

The silence was more terrible than the screaming.

She had managed to get through mirror using the power of the mark. And though her brow was not sweat streaked from the exertion, she was focused more on the space around her than her heaving lungs and pounding heart. What had once been a ruin of solitude was that no longer. And she had stepped through the mirror to find a ringing, resonating cone of noise, of pain, filled by horrifying howls so unearthly it seemed the stuff of nightmare.

_Was that Solas? Had Dheron found a way to hurt him too?_

Lavellan had forced herself to swallow down the panic, the concern. Because while it was possible that Solas was the victim, it was likely, perhaps even _more_ likely, that he was not. And that alternative was worse, nearly unthinkable.

_What if that pain was Solas' doing?  
_

She could still see the expression his face when he had first met her in the Fade, when he had healed the hurt, eased the ache of her mind. There had been such anger then, not directed at her, but outward. It had turned his grey-blue eyes into little chips of ice, so cold they nearly burned.

_Could he be responsible for such agony?_

The screaming sounded wrong, cruel, as if whatever was being done was meant to extract hurt in the slowest way possible. This was not the death knell of a man, a final farewell, this was the sound of one who knew they were trapped in this world without escape.

The abrupt end to the shrieks only seemed to make it worse, for now the noise lingered in her ears, clung with ghostly fingers to her mind.

Eerie, haunting, she buried the bubbling sense of dread beneath her iron control, but could not quite prevent the slight tremble in her hands, the sound of her blood thrumming in her ears.

She had to find Dheron, because no matter where he was Solas would surely be shadowing his steps.

It was impossibly to explain how she knew such a thing other than to acknowledge that it was instinct that provided such clarity.

Circling the hall of the eluvian, staining in the dark, it struck her then that the darkness of the room was an unnatural one. Not even her elven eyes, primed and well used to seeing in the dark, could piece its shroud. Thus, she had only her thought to keep her company. However, in the wake of the chilling silence she abandoned even that to focus on moving, walking, searching for the way out.

Hand running along the slick walls of the perimeter, she found a single opening, a door way, and pushed forward. Up and up she climbed, and gradually the cavernous darkness gave way to the silvery gleam of wet stone and veilfire, a shimmering trail she follow out of that endless night.

At the end of the path she found herself faced with an intricately wrought door of gleaming silverite. Images were woven in its finely crafted surface, depictions of elves and beasts surrounded by the flowing ether of what must be secrets given form.

Bracing her hands against the rippled texture, Lavellan took a deep breath and applied just the barest amount of pressure, finding the door well and truly shut when it did not even shift in the face of her efforts. Frowning at her discovery, she redoubled the strength of her action, leaning forward as she pushed, until her hands were red and aching.

But still the door remained closed, locked, though she did not think it was through any mechanical means.

_Magic?_ She asked the voices of the well, for their insight_, Do you know a way through it?_

The answer was immediate, and chaotic, a flurry of ancient elven language that even now took considerable effort to understand.

But before she could settle on any one interpretation or solution, there was some other, more worrying sound that filled hear ears. And the musical whisperings of the well were broken, cast aside, by the deep rumbling menace of a growl, pitched low enough to vibrate the stones at her feet

A growl followed by the thunderous roar of an enraged creature.

_"I told you to give me the amulet."_ A voice admonished her from just over her shoulder, echoed in her mind, _"You should have listened, da'len."_

Pivoting, Lavellan rounded on the speaker only to find herself face-to-face with empty space. But there _was_ something there, she could see the air distort along its edges, and so she waited a beat longer.

The ghostly form of the High One materialized a moment later, his elven features more stark now in the silvery cast of the hallway.

_"I told you but you would not listen."_ Mournful, the spirit shook his head, "_And now the amulet has been used as the key to release the one creature that should have remained locked away for eternity."_

She had heard the creature, but could not imagine what sort of beast would require a magical lock to contain it.

"What do you mean?" Lavellan demanded, "What was locked away? And I _couldn_'t trust you. I _still_ cannot."

The High One scowled at her accusingly, _"Did he teach you nothing about sprits and demons? Did he not say that it was intent as much as expectation?"_

He gestured angrily at the closed door ad the deep rumbling growl that seemed to only grow louder with time, _"This should never have happened. And I lay the responsibility of _that_ on _you_, little elf."_

"And what is _that_ precisely?" Lavellan asked with a slight frown, "Another demon?"

_"See for yourself."_

And then the man, the spirit, was gone, leaving Lavellan to face the opening doors by herself.

The roaring was nearly deafening without the metal to muffle it. And though the sound didn't change, the underlying current of menace seemed all more keen now that the path to the still face-less creature lay unobstructed.

She didn't know what to expect, but something in her gut twisted, and when at last she stepped forward into the hall, she realized why. It was the creature of the eluvian's vision, the monster that keepers and story tellers in every clan would use to remind young elven children to be wary.

Shaggy fur dark as the void, and those six unblinking scarlet eyes.

Lavellan swallowed hard as her head craned upwards to take in its full height. There was something deeply unsettling in seeing one's childhood fear alive and real and just as dangerous as one had imagined.

_Dread Wolf._

She had thought that perhaps Dheron was the creature in disguise. But as she glanced down to where its large clawed paws contacted the floor, Lavellan's stomach twisted. Dheron's mangled body lay in a pool of blood, twisted nearly beyond recognition. It was only when she saw the telltale rise of his chest that she realized, with mounting horror, that the other elf was still alive.

But then she saw _it_, and her surprise vanished in the face of an anger so cold and fierce it seemed wrought of the void itself. Solas' staff, utterly destroyed, lay at the beast's feet in pieces. And there, half-submerged in the bloody pool, rose its intricately wrought top, like the bow of a doomed ship. Her once-lover had not needed his staff the way the Circle mages had seemed to rely on them, but the sight of it now, a marker of such violence, shook her to the core.

_Had her trip through the mirror, the use of the amulet, broken the seal on this creature? Was she, as the High One accused, responsible for this carnage?_

It was anger not guilt that drove her to march deeper into the beast's lair. She _refused_ to believe Solas could be done it by something like this creature. They had faced Corypheus together, all manner of other fantastical beasts had fallen to their prowess.

He would not be done in by such a foe.

He _could_ not.

Lavellan dared not believe otherwise.

The monster turned its fanged features once he noticed her, wiped the blood from its muzzle and sniffed the air as she approached.

"Where is he?"

Too furious to care that she was asking a god to explain himself, Lavellan scowled as the Dread Wolf slowly sidled closer, mouth snapping in warning as it drew near.

"Where. Is. Solas? The other mage."

She used every ounce of her experience as Inquisitor to keep her voice from shaking, to straighten her spine and keep her eyes fixed on those glittery red eyes that watched her with such interest. Testing her resolve, the creature reared back, and roared anew, snarled. She still had no proper weapon with which to fight, but tempered by the anger, the frustration that had been growing for the past several weeks in captivity, she needed nothing more than the mark on her hand.

"I asked you a question."

Scowling at him, Lavellan widened her stance, balanced her weight on the balls of her feet and waited, "I have fought all manner of 'god' before. Do not think you are anything I cannot handle."

The eluvian's vision still burned brightly in her memory and she knew that this creature, Dread Wolf or not, posed a danger to more than just herself.

_Era'fen._

_Numinehn._

Her resolved strengthened with their names, and she used the time she had to glance around the hall for the Amulet she knew Solas had taken. The one _he_ had returned to her was tucked beneath her clothes once more. But though her eyes were well suited to the dark, there was not even a glitter or glint of stone she sought.

But no sooner had she glanced away when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Dread Wolf lunge, jaws snapping.

She reacted in an instant, sprang back even as her fist powered forward to land a small albeit well-aimed blow to the tender flesh of the beast's nose.

"Don't you _dare_!"

Snarling as she spoke, the mark on her hand flared in challenge, but so too did a a similar light explode from the crest of her shoulder. Bright, beaming, the green light crackled warningly when as the Dread Wolf dropped to all fours and slowly began to circle.

"I demand an answer. Where is he? Where is Solas?!"

The mark from the breach flared brighter still, the light from her shoulder following suit. In retrospect, that glimmer of light there made no sense, was something she had never seen before, but she would have to deal with that later.

"Answer me!" She shouted, arms coming wide as she faced him. "Do not think me simple. You may be an animal in shape but I am not fooled. Answer Me!"

She wore no armor, had no weapon nor shield with which to defend herself, but the look on her face was defiant, and would be to the last. It was her nature, the truest expression of her character.

Something _he_ knew. Something _he _recognized.

The beast hesitated, and from his lips came the cracked whisper.

_"Vhenan?"_

Lavellan thought she was past being surprised, had seen all the strange things Thedas had to offer. As Inquisitor she had seen it all. But hearing his voice in her mind, seeing that familiar flash of blue beneath the red left her mute.

It was _his_ voice she heard there. It was the look in his eyes that she _knew_. Feeling her breath catch in her throat, she search frantically for some sign that she had misunderstood, that she was wrong.

What she found seemed to prove the opposite, beneath the fangs and fur, beneath that _anger_ was a man she recognized.

"How is this possible?" Shaking her head in confusion, she took a step closer, hands slowly uncurling from their fists, "Solas?"

The wolf shifted as she stepped increasingly closer, though it was impossible to tell whether it was wariness that drove him back or a trick get her close enough to bite.

_"You are a mother."_

His words were more in search of a confirmation rather than true question. Given how little she had talked about her life since they had parted, Lavellan didn't know how he had discovered such a thing. But she would not lie to him, not about this most important fact.

"Yes."

_"Twins?"_

She smiled faintly, "Two boys. They are very bright, take after their father I think. "

_"Or perhaps they take after you."_ Solas' voice was tender and a little sad, _"I am glad you found a measure of peace after Corypheus, found someone you loved enough to start a family."_

Her smile faltered then.

"I..." She didn't know how to explain to him now, she had imagined this scenario so differently. "I didn't find anyone, Solas. I had the children within a year of Corypheus' defeat."

The silence that followed was deafening.

_"I..."_ the wolf's ears twitched, _"Forgive me, I am not sure I understand."_

She looked up at the man who had given her children, the man who she realized, she knew very little about. There were a hundred different questions she wanted to ask him, now more than ever. But first she needed him to understand what had happened between them, what had _grown_.

"They are _your_ sons, Solas."

And though she had phrased it as plainly and gently as possible, his sharp inhale of surprise spoke loudly enough.

_"What?"_

Denial and horror filled that singular word, the shock of it like a magical ripple through the air. And in that moment the wolf disappeared leaving Solas to stand there on unsteady legs as he tried to cross the short space between them.

"I am the father?" His bloodied hand pointed at his chest, smearing crimson across it like a badge. At her quiet nod, he took another sharp shuddering breath as he rocked back on his heels, pale face nearly ashen. She crossed the distance, caught him by the shoulders when it looked as if he might collapse. But the expression on his face, the look in his eyes made her swallow hard and there was no helping the emotion that surged so swiftly to the surface.

Because despite the surprise and fear in his voice, there was a smile on his lips. A pure and gentle expression of such joy that her eyes stung to see it.

"Twins." He breathed the word again, and this time she heard the emotion beneath that considered tone.

His blue eyes caught hers, clear and sharp, wide in wonder for only a moment before fatigue forced them suddenly shut.

She caught him before he fell.


	15. Unraveled

AN: Hello my darlings! I can't believe how much attention this fic is getting, so thanks to everyone who has recently joined (as well as all of my old favorites who have been here since the beginning)!

As mentioned earlier this chapter will wrap up the first 'arc' of our little adventure. I am currently working on the structure of the second so there may be delays getting the next chapter out. However, I do have a final 'end game' in mind so we'll get there!

Also, many of you requested I keep the next arc in this same fic - I am gladly following your suggestions, so stay tuned as the story will continue here and not in some new titled fic.

To mentally sort this, I've considered this the 'Unraveled' Arc - and the next series of chapters will be part of the 'Entangled' Arc.

Thanks again to everyone for their enthusiasm, comments and follows - it means a lot!

Enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

The candlelight flickered in the dark, golden and bright. Lavellan watched it fight against the slight draft of the room, resilient and strong as it fed off the well oiled wick. Hypnotized by its graceful dance, the sway and twist of its fiery body, she drew her eyes away only when the soft murmurings of the man on the bed grew louder.

_Solas._

The warm light played upon his features, but he was ultimately lost to the dark, fast asleep as he had been for nearly two days. He hadn't woken since his collapse in the temple.

Neither sick nor wounded, his lapse into such a deep sleep worried her as much as if he had suffered some sort of injury. She knew he preferred the company of spirits, spent long stretches of time in the Fade, but he had rarely disappeared for such a length of time before. Not since they had found that spirit of wisdom in the Exalted Plains.

His situation now had made her trek from the temple to this village that much more difficult. The appearance of her Hart, the one she had left to graze back at the grove, had been such a stroke of luck she had not quite made sense of, but its appearance had saved her great trouble. And when she had used its strong body to carry both men, it had comforted her as well, nudging her affectionately as they walked in search of a village, a town, that could boast a healer.

Led by the words of the High One who had appeared once more shortly after Solas' collapse she had found a place of rest. But after several weeks of rough living and feeling hunted, the quiet of this village, the kindness of the people she met, left her at a loss.

Lavellan swallowed hard as she remembered the concerned look of the elder as she had spun her story, of being attacked by a large animal. She hadn't expected to feel guilty, but their freely given hospitality had made it that much more precious.

When she returned to the keep she would find a way to pay them back. The Inquisition was not short on anything these days, so it was the very least she could do.

"Vhenan?"

The word was spoken so clearly that she looked down at him, only to find his eyes were still shut and he was still asleep. She exhaled at the pain that knotted itself around her chest, noticing for the first time the way her hand had come to rest over his, finger tip just barely touching the warm rough skin of his palm.

It took more effort to pull her hand away than she would have liked to admit.

He looked so peaceful, more at ease than she had seen him. The quiet now afforded her time to see what time had wrought, to see the almost imperceptible changes of his person. And they were very nearly impossible to see. He aged well, it seemed.

Though, now that she knew the truth, it should not have surprised her.

_Dread Wolf._

She followed that feeling of shock, the surprise, back to that final conversation she had with the High One shortly after Solas' collapse. Even now the memory seemed like a parody of reality, too impossible to have actually happened.

_"It worked."_

She had never heard the spirit sound so pleased before. And, given what had just happened, she was not entirely sure that his happiness was a good thing. He had never done anything to harm her, yet, but he had not stopped anything either.

Turning to look up at his taller form, Lavellan frowned.

"What do you mean?"

The spirit turned, looked at her in return.

_"You."_

"Me?" Baffled, Lavellan glanced at Solas for only a moment before turning back to where the spirit continued to watch her with unblinking eyes.

_"Did you not wonder why you could remember your memories after coming back from the Fade?"_

"I assumed it was Solas' doing." She could still remember the feather-soft touch of his fingers on her temple, the warmth of his breath upon her brow.

_"You thought he had _that_ sort of power as he was?"_ The spirit scoffed, _"No. It was you. When you fought Dheron's use of the amulet, back before the temple, you cracked it with the power of your mark."_

When she remained silent, face blank, he continued.

_"There is a shard missing from the amulet. The smallest splinter, but it is enough."_

"A shard?"

The spirit cackled, raised a finger and pointed it at her shoulder, the one that had burst with light when she had held the Dread Wolf at bay. _"It went into you. And that shard was enough to allow you to retain your memories, allowed you to combat the amulet's powers."_

_"It was this same shard that allowed you to hold off the Dread Wolf._

"What do you mean?" Lavellan shifted uncomfortably, the thought that yet another magical accident was responsible for a convenient increase in magical ability was disconcerting to one who had never actively sought such power.

_"The mark on your hand, it resonates with the shard of the magic contained in that shard of amulet."_

Lavellan was hardly a simple minded woman, but his longer discussion of magical resonance and natural compatibilities lost her completely.

The High One sighed, _"To explain it in depth would take too long. But suffice to say that the mark on your hand and the power of the Dread Wolf contained in that amulet shard are of the same magic. The same source."_

"The _mark_ comes from the Dread Wolf's power?"

There had to be some mistake. Solas had never mentioned the specifics of the Foci's origin, but it seemed too convenient that it belong to the same Elven god that now seemed in control of his body.

"Did the Dread Wolf possess Solas?" Lavellan felt something twist in her stomach.

_Was this why he had warned her away at the Temple of Mythal? Because he was bound to the will of another elven god, forced to do its bidding? _

Floundering in the face of the unknown, she shook her head, feeling as if she might want and fear the answer to her question at the same time.

_"Possessed by the Dread Wolf?"_ The High One seemed surprised, _"Do you not see it? The one you know as Solas was _born_ into that power. He was born Fen'harel."_

Of all the surprises, lies and truths that had been shared thus far it was _this_ _one_ that threatened to break her heart cleanly through.

"Fen'harel?"

She whispered the name, tasted it anew, found it bitter, like ashes in her mouth.

_"He has not used that name, that title, in centuries, but it is his legacy. One I imagine he bestowed upon his children."_

Lavellan felt her face drain at the words and reached out to grip the stone balustrade beside her.

"The children?"

She had not even consider that implication, had barely even begun to conceive the implications for the Inquisition. This realization struck harder and closer to home.

_"That is something you will have to discuss with him. You know how children are conceived among the People. It is as much about magic and will as it is nature taking its course."_

There was a sudden roaring silence that followed, loaded with a near hysterical urge to begin screaming. It would have been appropriate, she thought, but not helpful, never helpful, and so she ignored it as best she could.

Instead she took a long, slow inhale followed by an equally precise exhale. And when she was sure every scrap of willpower was properly locked around her roiling, screaming self, she nodded.

"Yes of course. I will have to talk to him about that when he wakes."

But he hadn't woken. Not then, and not now.

Returning her gaze to the flickering candlelight that burned at his bedside, Lavellan felt the ache in her throat, in her chest, return.

It was impossible to stay there a moment longer, not when so much lay between them. The gulf, the chasm, seemed so much bigger now than it had been, insurmountable even.

Lies, so many of them. It wasn't that she could not understand or empathize, but...

_No matter what happens next, what we had was real._

Her eyes stung, burned, from the tears that she refused to cry over him. She did not even know who he was, so how could it possibly have been real?

She left his room a moment later, unable to stand the silence. Down the hall, out of the small guest home, she walked through the darkened streets of the village until she arrived at the healer's cottage.

Nodding to the attendant and assistant healer, Lavellan glanced through the door to where their charge was sleeping.

"How is he doing?"

She dared not enter the room, could not quite overcome her anger enough to do so, but she could see Dheron well enough from where she stood. Swathed in bandages, the rust colored stains of old blood had long since given way to the brighter color of healing wounds.

He looked much better than he had, not quite whole, not as he had once been. But perhaps that was why she did not hate him as she might have.

Listening to both women talk about his slow road to recovery was soothing in its banality. It would take another week at least before he could be expected to regain full consciousness, their use of sedatives sped his healing but at the expense of awareness.

It was, to Lavellan's mind, an apt trade.

But no amount of healing would be able to fully undo the damage. He was almost unrecognizable after what the Dread Wolf, she swallowed, after what _Solas_ had done to him. And if what she suspected was true, then it was unlikely Dheron would ever regain full use of his eyes, nevermind walk or speak.

_Would Solas be capable of such things again?_

The answer she had received from the High One gave her little reassurance.

Shaken and sad, she had gestured to Solas' prone body in the temple and asked her question. "Is there...he seemed so out of control when I stepped into the hall. Is there anything I can do?"

_"It is the truth of his character to act like that, would you have him be something he is not?"_

"No. But he was not himself, you said that yourself. You warned me the Dread Wolf never should have been freed. So what can I do?"

The spirit was silent for a long moment, assessing, considering, before providing his solution.

_"Your token, the one you wear around your neck now, it has sylvan wood woven into the strands. Return it to him. It will help."_

She understood the undercurrent of his words well enough, "But not a lot."

_"No, not a lot."_ The spirit admitted, _"And the Dread Wolf will assert himself more as he learns of this world. You will need Dirthamen's amulet or something stronger ___if you wish his more elven side to remain in control._."_

"What sort of artifact would that be?" Lavellan demanded, feeling as if she were faced once more with an impossible task. There was no sign of Dirthamen's token, not anymore.

_"It need not be ancient. But it must be a masterwork of elven design. Seek out those that carry the blood of June in their veins. They still nurture the old ways."_

"There is no one descended from the elven gods among the Dalish." Lavellan protested, "Can you imagine what would happen if anyone made such a claim? The clans would have raised them above all others for that reason."

_"_Your_ children are descended from an elven gods."_ The High One pointed out, _"They are but the most recent additions. The bloodline of June has mingled with those of the People since the beginning. It is possible they no longer understand it, but his heirs will have an affinity for craft that is unparalleled."_

"Do you have someone in mind?" Lavellan asked, "A name? Or a clan?"

_"Ah little elf. I am not Dirthamen himself."_ The spirit seemed amused, pleased, _"I know only that which appears in my temple, and no child of June has appeared for some time. But once upon a time they did, and that is what matters."_

_"You will want to return to your clan for more information. Those with the gift of crafting often know their peers best. It is likely you will find a lead there."_

Lavellan returned to the guest home, opened the door to Solas' room and found him as still and silent as ever.

She had sent word to her clan that she was still on her way, but there was little she could do in the meantime. A second letter, meant for the Inquisition had been drafted as well, but thus far it remained folded in her pocket. To involve them now would be to court Dorian's anger on her behalf as well as the sharp-eyed gaze of her spymaster. And she did not need them there, not when she could still handle this herself.

Besides there was to be an arlathvhen, and for the more traditional clans, the appearance of humans would be uncomfortable. She had hoped to arrive early, to prepare, but now it seemed she had little choice. The clans would already be assembled by the time she made it to Halamshiral, especially since she had yet to make it to Wycome.

_But would Solas be coming with her? Would she truly be responsible for bringing the Dread Wolf into the midst of so many Dalish?_

It was a question for another time, though it was one she would have to answer soon.

For now she could focus on him, on _Solas_.

Checking the windows, she crossed the room to light a second candle and straighten the tattered remains of his clothes. She would visit the leatherworker in the hopes of finding appropriate replacements. But there were a few things that had survived.

She drew near his sleeping form to see both the knot she had returned and his own talisman lying upon his chest. Looking at its dark polished surface, Lavellan had to admire the sort of beautiful symmetry of the wolf-jaw now that she knew it for what it was. A reminder, a warning even.

She would never dismiss such a small detail again. And so it was that when she sat down beside him that she saw it.

A second Lover's Knot.

_Hers_.

Little more than a crumpled ball of string and strands, the mess entangling his fingers has not been there when she had left. But as she followed it's tangled trail from his pocket, she realized he had kept it close all along. It seemed impossible that it be there, but when she leaned forward, caught sight of the telltale twist of hair and wood and silver, she knew it to be true. And though she managed to slide it from his grip, she could not bring herself to cast it aside as she once had. Neither could she bring herself to rethread its intricate knots.

It seemed that unraveled did not mean undone.

But she did not know what to do with that knowledge either.

And as she watched him, Lavellan felt her conviction shudder, for even she could not say whether the ache of her heart was from hurt or if the hot bloom in her chest was what it felt like when one dared to hope again.

* * *

END ARC: UNRAVELED


	16. Silence

AN: Thanks again to everyone who joined us for the last chapter - this here is the first step in a new direction/arc. As such we'll have bit of transition and conversation-heavy chapters to set things. I'm still working on the structure of this arc but feel free to provide suggestions as well. I'm always up to hear ideas :)

I'll let this chapter speak for itself, but please let me know what you think about pacing etc. You guys (and gals) have all be fabulous so please feel free to express yourself no matter how you feel - I take these all into consideration when I write.

Best,

Voi

* * *

Lavellan woke to find Solas gone.

Sheets carefully folded, windows open to allow the soft breeze of morning, the room looked as if he had never been there.

Stepping into the silence, into the space that luxuriated in the sunshine, Lavellan felt her throat tighten though she shied away from the emotion that came with it. Inhaling slowly, carefully, she traced the simple curve of the bed with a hand, watched the dust motes scatter the light like crystal.

Quiet.

She tried to find some semblance of peace along with it, but there was only the uncomfortable twist in her gut, the conscious effort it took to swallow. Part of her wondered why she had expected anything different, had he not done the same thing those many years ago?

Vanished without a word. Gone.

She inhaled again, smoothly, but the exhale was a sharp jagged thing.

Why?

Her hand came up to massage the hurt that seemed lodged in her throat, the ache that would not be assuaged. But more than the pain was the worry, the concern.

He was not the man she knew.

The man she knew was nothing more than a façade, a mask.

Such a betrayal should have burned hot enough to fuel her anger, but she had never truly been one to hold grudges. Even ones of this magnitude. And though she would demand explanation, the time for personal grievances had to wait.

Still, the realization, the truth, did provide insight. Another lens with which she looked back on the memories, the past seemed more stark with the truth now in mind. And there was no dulling the grief that had nearly proved debilitating in the months that had followed his inexplicable disappearance.

He had not gleefully spread untruths, but neither he revealed that dark secret to her.

_Had he not believed her trustworthy?_

Her foot nudged something beneath the bed before she could give the thought further consideration. Bending down, she paused when her hands found the articles carefully stowed there, neatly arranged.

His belt, his bag, his cloak.

If he had left he would have taken his things with him, of that she had no doubt. Their appearance there filled with her just enough hope that he might still yet remain.

But where? She was sweeping through the village a moment later, mind leading her to the only other place he could be.

It stood there, at the edge of the village, a warning and a reminder.

A shrine.

Perhaps for him, it would be a beacon. And she was correct.

Tall, unbending, with his hands tucked behind him, he seemed to be in no rush as he stood by the Fen'harel statue. But she knew him, despite his lies, she could still read the tension in his body, the longing in his eyes as he looked out at the land the stretched outward.

Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she walked among the thick grasses of the meadow to where he seemed to be examining the tree line, the fog that caressed the emerald boughs like a lover.

"Good morning." He greeted her pleasantly as she drew near, seemingly unaware of the turmoil he had caused, "Did you sleep well?"

Lavellan stepped closer, hugging the light cloak around her shoulders, "I slept peacefully all things considered."

"Ah, good." He shifted his stance, fidgeted.

"Solas?"

She turned so that she could look at him properly, could see the hint of distress that he tried to hide behind those sad eyes. Once upon a time it would have been all to easy to cross that space between them and slide into his arms, comfort him with touch, and warmth and heart. Now all she could provide was a collection of questions, heartfelt, but not what a spirit might need for soothing.

"What is it?" Cautiously, patiently, she waited for his response.

"I...did not enjoy my time in the Fade as I usually do."

Her expression creased, "What do you mean?"

Shrugging as if to diminish the seriousness of what he had said, Solas met her gaze for only a moment before refocusing on the forest.

"It was not as I remembered it. That is all."

He forced a smile to his lips, but the sight of it only made the strain more apparent, pronounced.

"Did Fen'harel hunt you?"

She asked the question delicately, and though he said nothing, the look her gave her, the lift of his brows, told her that she had surprised him.

"I talked with a spirit in the temple. It seemed to know you...him...it."

Gesturing vaguely, Lavellan sighed, "I want to ask you a thousand different questions, to _understand_. But my first concern is whether or not you are ok."

His exhale was as silent as the air around them, "I..." he shook his head, "You seem to be taking all of this rather well in stride."

He looked at her, _really_ _looked_ at her as another smile found itself on his lips, this one fleeting though it was genuine, "You continue to surprise me, you know. And not just about the children."

"We can talk about the boys later." Lavellan said softly, unwilling to be led astray, "I asked if you were ok, and you still have not given me an answer."

And she was right.

His hesitation was tempered by her straightforwardness, and eventually he responded to what she had asked. "It has been a long time since I have dealt with that part of myself. It was, unsettling to find it very much unchanged despite the passing of time."

"How so?"

His uneasy expression spoke for itself and she let the question drop, though her own expression tightened for a moment as she looked away.

Touching the token, the knot that lay next to his amulet, Solas lapsed into another small silence before he said softly, "Thank you for returning this."

She didn't look back, but knew what he was talking about, "The spirit at the temple suggested it might help you."

He turned, "That is the second time you have mentioned a spirit. Do you know what it was? Or perhaps _who_ he was? "

It was her turn to shrug, "He referred to himself as the High One, though I do not know who he was before that."

Solas considered her words, "I see."

"About the token - it won't help for long." Lavellan frowned as she elaborated, "We need to find someone capable of crafting an elven masterwork if you're going to properly balance out your magic."

"Balancing my magic?" He looked at her, "Just who have you been talking to about _that_?"

"If you leave now there will be precious little time for you to remain as you are." She rushed on, "The High One spoke of balancing natures, of light and dark. That the power of the foci, the one that Corypheus used, was your light and without it the presence of the Dread Wolf, your dark, is volatile."

"Is there nothing you do not know about me now?" He wondered, looking at the pained expression of her face.

"I did not wish to find out like that." Wounded, her voice had twisted into a stricken whisper, "I never wanted to know the truths you were unwilling to share with me."

"Now who is being false?" He smiled gently, "I know you wondered."

"Yes. But I wanted _you_ to tell me. To _trust_ me enough to-" she cut herself off, felt the agony wash over her as she took several steps backward, turned to go.

"Lavellan."

His smile fell away as he glimpsed the hurt in her eyes, the paleness of her face. He had meant for his teasing to be lighthearted, but it seemed he had stumbled upon a tender spot instead. Catching her upper arm as she brushed past him, his grip was light enough that she might still leave if she wanted to. Instead she chose to stop.

But looking at the sorrow of her features made him feel as if the weight of his decisions had fallen upon her shoulders instead. And perhaps in a way they had.

After all, she already bore the mark of his foci, and had born his children.

"I cannot promise that I will stay long enough to find this craftsman." He apologized, "There is still much to be done."

"It is _your_ choice." She closed her eyes for a moment to gather herself, "Leave today, tomorrow, the decision is yours."

"However." She looked up at him them, fierce and determined, "If you commit to this, to ignore the help offered and embrace that power, know that we may find ourselves on opposite sides of a line I _will not_ cross."

"I understand." He did not like her words, but knew the truth of them, the danger that he would be courting if he ignored the imbalance within himself.

"I will not allow you to endanger the people of Thedas, my clan or the Inquisition. But most of all I will not allow you to harm _our children_. No matter what history lies between us. If you choose this path, I will kill you should you ever venture close."

Drawn but resolute she watched him with such sad eyes, "Do you understand? I will not compromise their safety. Not for anyone, not even you."

And if ever there was a time in the past where he believed he loved her, it paled in comparison to this moment now. For in that _question_, in those words, she won him over once more. There was no doubting her skill as a warrior, as a mother, as one who had once been strong and brave enough to love him despite his flaws.

"I would have nothing less." He said, and meant it, "I promise that I will let you know as soon as I am able. As soon as my decision is finalized."

She nodded, the movement jerky and uneven, but she didn't look away this time. Instead she held it there, for a moment, for a breathless eternity.

_You would love them._

She did not say the words, but he could read them on her face, in her eyes.

_You would love our children if you but knew them._

And he would have loved them. He _did _love them. But he did not need to meet them to know he loved them already, for they were of her heart, her body, and her strength.

_Vhenan_

The silence descended on them then, leaving them to consider the fog and the forest, and the long shadow the Dread Wolf had cast upon them all.


	17. Cold

AN: This fic hit a major milestone (actually several) - we have 100 favorites and over 200 people following! I've never had a fic do this well, so thanks to everyone who's taken the time to stop by and give this a read.

I had a question from the lovely Lillian52323 so let me reiterate here - all future arcs for this fic will happen HERE. I have had several readers tell me this is easier for them, so expect all future chapters to get posted here :)

Thanks again for all your support - it's such a pleasure to write for you all.

As an aside the theme song for Lav/Solas I've been using for this arc is "A Way of Life" from The Last Samurai Soundtrack. It's gorgeous, and bittersweet. Feel free to give it a listen!

Enjoy this next one!

~Voi

* * *

Solas woke with a gasp, eyes snapping open as his hands tore the blanket from his body. On his feet before he was even properly awake, he staggered as his legs tried to remember their strength, arms flailing wildly as he reached out to find the window frame.

"_No_."

Gripping the sturdy frame until his hands were white knuckled and aching, Solas felt his lungs, his eyes, burn as he struggled to throw off the cloying hands of the nightmare.

Sweat, cold and slick, adhered his sleeping garments to the rigid shape of his body, his shoulders and chest. Pulling at them, ripping them off with a violence that was borne of shadows made too real, his body trembled for a long while after, chilled to the bone even in the warmth of the room.

The images he had seen, the emotions that had rippled through him - he inhaled sharply as he struggled for control, to return to reality. Slowly sinking to his knees, he pressed his face to his hands as he focused on his breath, on the frantic beat of his heart and the twin sensations of rage and fear that left his head spinning. Never before had the Fade savaged him so badly, turned against him and been so completely out of his control.

And the vision...

Even the memory of it was unsettlingly sharp, like it was an event he had witnessed with his own eyes.

The children, the darkness, the arrow of light that that pierced them both.

_Their_ blood that pooled at his feet.

His legacy, _his_ _fault_ if they were targeted for their lineage.

Shuddering again, he looked up to see the moon hanging in the sky, its soothing light a balm to his fevered mind. Silvery, bright, his hands lifted to touch the threaded knot that hung around his neck, its color mirroring the otherworldly glow.

Had the vision been a warning of things to come if he chose the path of the Dread Wolf? Or was it a cautionary tale of what might happen if his influence over his children grew?

It was the sixth time he had been visited by such images, and each time seemed worse than the one before. But though the visions themselves grew longer, more elaborate, the meaning continued to eluded him. Had he more time he would have waited to discover the full breadth of it before making a decision, but he was running out of time.

Dheron was nearly recovered, or at least healed enough to travel, and Lavellan meant to bring him to Wycome with her when she left in four days time. He had just that long to make his decision and let her know.

_Stay or leave._

See the children he had fathered, or risk being a stranger to them.

The latter choice was the smarter one, the one he had taken three years ago. But there would be no reconciliation if he chose to walk away this time. Lavellan had said as much, had _promised_.

Sighing, he allowed his forehead to press against the edge of the bed, to savor that small comfort. There was no way he would fall asleep again, not after that, and so, once his breathing had slowed and hands had ceased their trembling, he stood and headed for the baths.

In the end the hot, nearly scorching water helped soothe the chill from his body, the soap washed the stink of sweat, and the dry clothing upon his back steadied him enough so that he felt almost normal. It was this desire for normalcy that drove him to the small kitchen to heat water and find something to eat.

It was here that Lavellan found him hours later, settled at the table with a steaming mug of tea as he stared out the window with sightless eyes.

"Solas?"

He looked up to find her standing by door, looking as if she had just come from her own bed. Wrapped in a shawl, the wisps of hair that framed gave her a softness that matched the slumberous look in her eyes.

Those same eyes sharpened when she caught sight of the cup in his hand, the ribbon of steam that rose from the liquid.

"Tea?" She frowned as settled beside him, "Again? Why?"

This had been the third day in a row that she had found him thusly, and today he had no convincing lie to tell her, had only a truth that seemed lodged in his throat.

"I cannot seem to sleep...the Fade, there are visions that disturb me."

"Do you wish to discuss them?" She pressed gently.

Solas swallowed, shook his head. "I would rather discuss the children."

"I see." She lapsed into silence, her expression serious as she looked at him. The longer she remained silent, the more it seemed the tension built. Solas felt his stomach twist, wondering if she would refuse. There were many things she had discovered about him in the past week, things _no person_ should have found. What if she had decided that their children were better without him?

After all, _she_ had never said what she preferred on the matter, had redirected that question to him.

"Would you tell me about them?" He asked softly, as he looked down at his drink, "What they are like? How they behave?"

_Would you not rather see for yourself?_

Had she been any other woman she could have used his question to press further, to get more answers from him before he was truly ready. If she had been more ruthless perhaps she could even have used his desire for knowledge as leverage. But she had never been like that, not when they were adventuring together and not now.

Her small frown bloomed into a tender smile, "Shall I start from the beginning?"

Solas exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, "Yes, please."

And so she began her tale with the realization of her pregnancy, the months that followed. In some respects it was the perfect recount, detailed, specific of the changes that she had undergone. But when she got to the moment of their birth she slowed notably, as if she were trying to edit the details.

"Their births were complex, but Dorian was there, and despite his protests he was a great help."

It was the first time she had hesitated in her entire explanation, and as Solas focused on the nuances of her face, he realized that whatever she was glossing over was far more serious than she let on.

"What do you mean, when you say 'complex'?"

It was her turn to be evasive, and her expression grew shuttered as she turned towards the window, drawing her hands down to fold primly in her lap.

"I'd rather not talk about that. The details are, ultimately, unimportant. Both boys were born healthy, whole, and they proved to be a hand full from the very start. Like I said, Dorian was there, he helped."

"I..."

"Solas, _please_." She couldn't even bring herself to look at him.

"Very well."

Solas swallowed, realizing that this must be what it felt like, what she felt like, when he chose not to answer her. The concern mingled with the hurt and understanding. He looked at her, _truly_ looked at her there in the small room and wondered how it was that she bore such strain with grace, dignity.

"Shall I continue?" She asked after a time, returning her attention to her story.

"Please."

Her lips cracked into a feeble smile, "Very well then."

And so she began to tell him about the two sons, about their personalities, the foods they liked, the toys they preferred.

"The youngest, his name is Numinehn?"

"Yes," She looked at him for a moment before glancing back outside, "It seemed appropriate."

Solas nodded, "It is a good name. What of the eldest? What did you name him?"

"It is..." She paused again, and then shook her head with a small smile, "He is called Era'fen."

"Era'fen?" Solas repeated, stunned, "You called him dream wolf?"

"Yes." Lavellan smile grew as she looked at him, "Though he was named for my memories of you and the charm you wear. Not who your were..._are_."

"Indeed."

He lapsed into silence then, considering the names, the coincidence of such things.

"Given everything that has happened, I..." He looked down at his lap, "This is more than I had hoped for. Thank you."

"This?" Her brow bunched as she tried to understand him, "Do you mean our talk about the children?"

"Yes. That you would share such information without anger, without _spite_." He looked to where she sat, "You always were gracious, but I cannot say I expected it after everything that has transpired, especially now."

She shrugged, "The events of the Breach taught me that the only thing I could truly exert control over was my own reactions. What benefit to either of us is my anger or bitterness?"

"You would be justified in feeling them." Solas said softly.

"And I do." She admitted just as gently, "Feel them, that is. Sometimes they even threaten to overwhelm, but I need not act on them. There are so many other important things to do than be angry."

"Like raising the boys?"

"Yes. Like raising our sons."

He stilled, blue eyes searching as she looked at him, "Ours?"

She smiled again, a small shy thing, "They have always been my sons, as I birthed them. But they have always been _your_ sons too, whether or not you were around to know them."

And then, because it had reminded her, she said, "The High One was kind enough to point out that in the case of our people, it takes more that simple nature to conceive."

Solas nodded, "Yes, well, that is true. We are a people touched by magic."

"You wanted the children." She spoke the works like a statement, but he could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

"Yes." He answered immediately, without hesitation "Very much. I dreamed of such things, though..." he sighed, "Given our circumstances it seemed impossible."

Turning to face her he smiled faintly, "I never imagined you might want the same thing."

"We were in the middle of a crisis," she agreed after a long moment, "But it seemed like such a small detail that night."

_That night._

Her words seemed to conjure up the event into their midst, brought with it the blaze of the fire, the scent of Orlesian perfume and intimacy that had always simmered beneath the surface.

Their joining had been a soft and tender thing, a slow slide into pleasure that had left him nearly insensate. Remembering the way she had looked at him, the warmth of her eyes, the warmer, hotter, glide of her skin, Solas felt his pulse begin to beat more insistently. The texture of her hair, the soft sounds she had made beneath him, _above_ him, as she had crested that final peak.

_Solas._

"Do you regret it?" He asked, knowing there was nothing he could do to hide the banked heat that flickered behind his eyes.

"No." Her answer was a whispery caress to his senses, "I would not trade that night for anything. Do you?"

He swallowed, "Never."

She smiled then, shy, demure. "I don't think I realized that you wanted the same thing, not until my belly began to swell and I realized what we had both done."

He stood then, walked over to where she sat and watched as she looked up, to match his expression once more.

"I am sorry I was not there." The frown on his lips, the hurt in his heart was likely a small ache compared to what she must have felt, but he felt it was important he say it just the same. He should have been there, the truth of that was absolute.

"If I had realized-"

"No." She stopped him with a word, commanded his attention with the slight shake of her head. "Don't say nice things just because they soothe a hurt. We both know better."

"I would have found a way to watch over you." Solas promised, "It would be an insult to suggest you need my protection, but I would have liked such reassurance."

"We all make mistakes." Her hand lifted, brushed against the cuff of his shirt, smoothed the small wrinkle there, "Sometimes it's what we to do in the face of those mistakes that makes us who we are."

Steady, considered, it was this woman who had reassured him of his path even before she knew what it was. Would he be able to continue without her knowing that every step towards his goal was a credit to her strength?

She was so close now, was so warm compared to the chill that had spurred him to waking. Could he walk away again, understanding that if he did so now it would be for good?

Reaching down to touch the tassel of her shawl, smoothing its threads with a finger, he exhaled slowly when she turned from observing his hand upwards to stare him in the eye.

"Is this when you tell me you're going to leave?" She asked hoarsely.

"No." He shook his head, tried to smile but found his lips incapable of the expression, "But I cannot promise I will stay either. My decision is still not made, yet, I am sorry."

His words were met with the same understanding, same calm way she always displayed. But there was something in the way she looked at him, like a ripple in a dark pool, that made him wonder.

"Lavellan?"

"I'll leave you in peace." Her lips curved into a polite smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes, "You will let me know when you decide?"

He nodded mutely.

"Good."

She brushed past him on her way out of the room, and as she did the warmth that had wrapped itself around him disappeared. The chill returned anew, as did the memory of the nightmare, the vision of blood and death.

And so he returned to the little stove and began to heat another kettle of water.


	18. Meeting

AN: Thanks to everyone for their continued support - I've received some wonderful comments and it's been a pleasure to see interest continue to grow for this fic.

I'll keep this short and let this chapter speak for itself. Thanks again to everyone :)

Enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

It was a struggle to remain in control.

Walking the path towards the forest, Lavellan dashed the stray tear from her eye as she tried to steady herself.

She took one breath and then another, swallowed, took small sips of air to try and ease the tumultuous twist of emotions that brushed the surface.

Anger, hurt, love and hate all twisted together in a knot that threatened to shake the control from the iron grip she kept so tightly clenched.

Lavellan had not been happy to see him in the Fade the first time, and his betrayal in the Between, had broken whatever trust had lingered. Up until her discovery of his true nature she would have happily returned to her family without him, would have considered his absence kinder to all.

But now that she knew the truth the responsibility fell to her once more.

She could no more allow the Dread Wolf back into the world than she could turn around and kill him. She was Dalish despite her lack of vallaslin, and she had grown up to respect and revere Fen'harel as well as the other gods in the pantheon.

It only complicated matters when she thought of how she had felt about him as a man, how she might once more feel about him if they continued to circle around one another. She pressed her hand against her traitorous heart and wished she could dispose of the portions that refused to do as she wanted, that continued to ache even when she demanded it stop.

_Gracious_, he had called her.

She wanted to weep. If he had seen into her heart he would have seen the bitterness that had rooted itself there, the wound that continued to fester. Caught between betrayal and affection, she was more hurt now than when he had first left.

The crack of twigs and low growling of wolves alerted her to their presence a split second before she saw them on the ridge.

Just beyond the tree line, their appearance there was a surprise. It was rare for such predators to venture close to a settlement when their prey lived deeper in the woods.

Still, there was no denying that they were there, three of them, noble creatures the color of dark shadow. But while she had every respect for them she was not above defending herself if need be. She carried a small dagger on her person now, had been given one by the village blacksmith, but against a coordinated pack of wolves she knew her skills would be tested.

Still, they made no move to approach, so she stood her ground, watching the ones on the ridge while listening carefully for the telltale sound of wolves moving in the underbrush. Hand resting easily on the hilt of her blade, it tightened, drew the weapon from its sheathe when the sound of footfalls emerged from the right. Too loud to be a wolf on the prowl, she took a step back so that she could keep both the animals and the newcomer in view.

"Alright, that's enough. _Go_."

A man's voice, strong and clear, cut through the silence.

Issued with a forcefulness that demanded attention, it drew even the wolves from their unblinking focus. Turning as one to look at the man who had appeared along the path, they remained where they were until they were told off a second time.

"I said go." Sounding more irritated then angry or even worried, Lavellan watched as the tall elven man frowned "Don't make me repeat myself. I'd rather not use my bow."

She could see he was appropriately armed, but he made no move towards his weapon. Thus it was with no small amount of surprise that Lavellan watched as the wolves picked up and slowly sauntered away.

_What had just happened?_

Giving the man her full attention, she was met with a bright smile and a pleasant nod as he greeted her.

"Hello there."

He was handsome in the way hunters often were. Strong, sure of themselves and their bodies because they lived in every inch of it. There was no missing the lean muscles of his arms, the telltale bronze of his skin that spoke of years hunting in the plains.

She had just caught sight of the hunter's braids in his hair when he spoke again, and she refocused on his face in time to see his brow crease in concern.

"Are you, ok?"

His eyes, light green like sprigs of winter mint, peered at her through the dappled light, his vallaslin the intricate elegance of Falon'din's chosen. The design enhanced the masculine lines of his face, the keen edge of his eye.

Handsome, she had thought originally; perhaps it would have been better to leave such things unremarked. Her awareness of him had only sharpened as he spoke, the rich tone of his voice stirring her heart in the most disconcerting way.

She looked over to where the wolves had disappeared, "Yes, thank you. You did just save me from wolves, didn't you?"

Her words brought a smile to the man's lips, a light to his eyes.

"Most certainly not. I thought to save the wolves from your wrath." His voice was melodic as he teased, "I know a dangerous elven woman when I see them, especially when they are sporting a rather ominous frown on their face."

"A defender of wolves are you?" She raised a brow at his unusual response, "How noble."

He grinned, the expression making him look roguish with his long hair and merry eyes, "Yes, I know I confuse the halla terribly. But everyone needs to be protected sometimes."

"So you defend the wolves from halla?" She tried not to laugh, but her lips twitched into a small smile, "Anything else?"

"Naturally, I defend bears from nugs as well." He said with mock solemnity, "Have you seen the teeth on those things? They want you to think they're just small and cute but I know better."

There was no helping herself after such a comment and Lavellan let her laughter fill the space as good humor bubbled up like a spring. Bright and melodic, the sound was one she had almost forgotten amidst all the seriousness of the past few weeks.

"There it is." The hunter regarded her with a sort of satisfied smile.

"There is what?" She said, smiling and shaking her head.

"Your laughter and smile. I knew they had to be in there somewhere. Very pretty"

His frank appreciation made her flush, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He responded brightly, "So then, what are you doing so far from a city?"

"What do you mean?"

"There is no major city, no alienage for miles. What is an unmarked elven lady doing in the midst of the forest?"

"Ah." Understanding dawned, "I am actually Dalish. I've just...had my marks removed."

"Oh really? Dalish?" He seemed surprised, but then pleased, "That makes more sense then."

"Does it?"

"You carry yourself like one of us, confident in the wild rather than intimidated. I admit your lack of markings had me confused."

She smiled, "I see."

"And there it is again. That smile." He teased, "I think you may be trying to seduce me with your feminine charms. I admit to having a weakness for nice smiles."

"Do you?" She eyed him again, seeing him for the sort of attractive charmer he was, "I can imagine you have a weakness to a great many other traits as well."

"Oh you wound me!" He clutched at his heart, "And yet I cannot protest the truth can I?"

"I'm sure." But she was _smiling_ again, and it was so strange to do so

"You know, your smile is much nicer then that rather morose expression you wore when I first saw you."

"Morose expression?" She protested, "There was not even a frown on my lips."

"As one wounded heart to another, I ask that you don't lie to me." There was a sudden flash of seriousness, of kinship as he spoke, "I can sense it in you as surely as my own heart."

"Are you sure you aren't a mage then?"

"Me?"

And just as quickly his brevity vanished, his lips quirking into a half-grin, "Hardly. A hunter, as tradition dictates. But then, it makes sense does it not? A good hunter knows how to identify wounded creatures of all kinds. So then, am I correct?"

She gave him only the most begrudging nod.

"I thought so." His smile at her honesty was tender, "Still, I am sorry to be correct. You do not look like one who needs such sadness."

"Are there ever people who need such an emotion?" She asked,

"No I suppose not."

They settled into a comfortable silence for several long moments, sharing the warmth of the sun as it broke through the trees.

"What is your name?" He asked after a while, "If you don't mind me asking, that is."

She glanced at him, "I am Lavellan."

"You clan name?"

"Yes."

"Good." He nodded, "You can call me Theron, if it suits."

"If it suits?" She echoed, charmed by his phrasing.

"Indeed." There was an easy smile upon his lips and a glint in his eye, "I have a penchant for picking up nicknames, so it is rare that my given name is ever used."

"Theron." She tried his name, frowned a little when she found it familiar.

"Have we met? Do I _know_ you?"

"I suspect we may have met once before. When we were children, though that does not excuse me not recognizing you earlier." He smiled, "A friend of mine had a small crush on you, I think."

"Oh?"

"Yes well, he was the braver of the two of us." His expression dimmed slightly, "It ended up costing him in the end."

"I...am so sorry."

"Yes well." He heaved a sigh as he donned another, smaller, smile, "Times change and some things change with them. Am I right?"

It was a sentiment Lavellan could take to heart.

"Indeed."

"In any case, I am glad to have been of service. But I need to be going."

"Truly?" She looked to where he had turned to go, "Where do you venture?"

"To Wycome, by the invitation of your Keeper."

She frowned, "Are we not supposed to meet for the arlathvhen in Halamshiral?"

He grinned, "Yes. But there seems to be one last event before all the clans appear."

"Indeed?" This was the first time Lavellan had heard of such a thing, "What sort of event?

"You do not know?" His lips quirked into a smile, "Well, then I won't spoil the surprise."

"I dislike surprises, Theron."

"Then I _really_ shall not tell you." He laughed, "Until then, Lavellan, dareth shiral."

"Dareth shiral, Theron."

And as she watched him go she was struck by the fact that even back home, where she had hoped for stability, there were more surprises waiting on the horizon.


	19. Alone

AN: First and foremost thank you to everyone who fav/followed this fic - welcome all!

Big wink/hug to those of you who caught the reference to our old favorite from DA:O (Allie - I'm looking at you!) He is indeed who you think, but we'll be getting to that later ;) This is not the last time we've heard from Theron!

LifeandFire - we'll get back to those wolves eventually too!

Also, a special shout out to the lovely guest reviewer Silly Word Snob. Despite your name I found your comments heartfelt and respectful (not silly or snobby at all) so I wanted to thank you for pointing out something I can improve on. I really do appreciate your insight, so - everyone - please don't hesitate to suggest ways to boost my level of writing.

I would never be upset with anyone who demanded more of me :)

Thanks again and enjoy this next chapter!

~Voi

* * *

She woke in the middle of the night to the howling of a wolf.

A lone creature in the darkness, the sound was mournful as it hung in the air. Roused from slumber, she sat in her bed for a long while just listening to that call linger in the night.

She had seen the pack of wolves several time since meeting Theron, but they had kept their distance ever since. Thus, the howl of a single, solitary wolf made the hairs on the back of her arms stand on end.

_Why was it alone? Had something happened to its family?_

The thought kept her awake, straining in the dark, awaiting a response that she feared might never come. Dread coiled in her gut the longer she remained where she was, in her bed, in her room.

_Why was there no response?_

Unable to stand the waiting, she slowly crept out of bed, bare feet skimming the wooden floorboards as she moved soundlessly through the house. Clothed in little more than a simple linen shift, she should have been cold given the nip in the air, but the icy clench of her gut made it seem warm in comparison.

Easing her way out the front door, she arrived at the paved stone entry way just as another howl tapered off into abject silence. Her heart ached in empathy as again she waited with baited breath for some sign of life.

But there was none.

Turning to scan the edge of the forest, her eyes lingered over the heavy boughs, the deep shadows and scatter of silvery light across moist grass. A soft breeze pushed the evergreens into swaying, carried the scent of pine to her sensitive nose, like perfume, and the familiarity of that made her heart squeeze in a very different way.

She was ready to go home, to the land, to her children. The scent made her nostalgia all the more keen. She missed being surrounded by the elegant fringe of fern and towering spruce.

The soft, almost imperceptible scuff of light feet over stone drew her gaze from tree line to path. And what she found made her eyes widen. Gleaming in the moonlight, his pale skin seemed almost iridescent in the velvety dark, was Solas.

Serene, his slow, sinuous movements painted the picture of a man at ease.

Or was it loneliness? For his expression was a troubled one, his lips curved into the smallest of frowns, the knot of his brow a shadow over his eyes.

The wolf howled again.

"Lavellan?" He paused when he looked up, spotted her in turn, "What are you doing up?"

And though she opened her mouth to respond, to verbally shrug off the unease that had driven her from the softness of her bed, she hesitated when she saw the dirt on his feet, the small twigs that clung to the bottom of his pants and edge of his shirt.

_Had he been in the forest?_

_Had he seen the wolf, sought out one who might understand his other nature?_

It was then that a second voice, another howl pierced the air, joining the first in a haunting back and forth that rolled through the landscape.

And in that moment Lavellan felt her heart shudder in relief, felt her lungs release a breath she had not realized she had been holding.

"Is everything alright?"

Solas' hand stopped short of touching her shoulder, but she could feel the warmth of it a split second before he pulled away.

"Are they yours?" She asked, moonlight twisting around them both, "The wolves. Do they follow your commands?"

The howling grew louder as Solas shook his head, "They are creatures of the wild."

Had she been anyone else the answer might have sufficed, but she knew him better now, could see the evasion in his words.

"That is not quite an answer."

She had not intended to, but her words echoed the very ones that had started their courtship.

He almost smiled, "Despite what the Dalish call us, we were never gods. Our power were neither infinite nor all-powerful."

"No?"

Solas looked at her, "We were...very powerful, by the standards of magic today, perhaps intimidatingly so, but Corypheus did not need to enslave beasts when there was so much raw energy at his disposal. So it was with us."

_"We could just as easily tear our enemies apart ourselves."_ His admission of guilt was one all but whispered in the silence.

Yes another error in Dalish historical memory, Lavellan still found it in herself to be disappointed, to be saddened by the loss knowledge. Like a wound that would never heal, the loss of such cultural identity continued to fester among the People.

"So Abelas was right, then." The words were tinged by a bitterness she could not shake, "It was warring that ruined us?"

"Yes." Solas sighed, "Though I suppose the lack of record is a comment on how successful we were at eradicating those that disagreed with us."

She nodded silently, considering his words. And then she asked the one question she knew would lead to much larger, more complicated issues. The one question that had been coiling uncomfortably in her gut with each revelation.

"Do I still call you Solas?"

Her question seemed to surprise him, "If you wish."

"I _wish_ to use your real name." She responded, "I want the truth."

"The truth?" His lips curved into a humorless smile, "Did you not learn that truth is rather a matter of opinion?"

She swallowed, bracing herself. "Did you lie to me then? All those times..."

"I-" He faltered in the face of her own anguish, "I tried very hard to be truthful in all that I said, in all that I told you."

"But you _did_ lie."

He paused, seemed to gather himself, "By omission certainly, but I never purposefully told you untruths."

"You still deceived me." She glanced at, at the moon, "Would you have been so lenient on me had our roles been reversed?"

"Lying without cause is not something I believe in." Solas protested.

"And you had cause?" She asked, she _challenged_.

"Yes."

"Then what of Blackwall? Did he not have cause?"

"He was a selfish man running from his responsibilities." Solas frowned at the comparison, "He had no reason to lie other than to protect his own life."

The anger that she had harbored for so long rose to the surface in that moment, and for once she did nothing to curb the heat.

"Tell me. Was it his lies that angered you so, or was it that he could not keep up with the charade any longer? That he failed in his deception."

"You are serious?" His features twisted in anger, "You know he lied to everyone."

"And so did you." She retorted, eyes flashing, "And yet you expect me to understand that it was all for the greater good. To trust you when you say it was for a reason larger than any of us."

"It still is for the greater good. My quest is not yet over."

"I never misled you intentionally." Solas continued quietly, "I let you draw your own conclusions and if they were untrue then I admit to letting them stand, but I never looked you in the face and told you a lie."

"So your name is Solas?" She asked, feeling the anger twist, shape itself once more into hurt, "Your name is _Pride_? Is that who you are?"

There was nothing he could do in that moment without being false. He could neither deny her words nor provide her with a suitable alternative.

"I see." Voice tight, she turned to go.

"I am sorry, to have hurt you again." His words caught her in the doorway, framed between the dark of the house and the shadows of the night.

"Hurt?" She paused, turned to face him as "I think it's called _disappointment_."

"I..." He swallowed, "I understand."

She shook her head, "I'm not entirely sure you do. Not even now."

A tear, a single stray drop slid from the corner of her eye.

"I found out that I bore the children of a man whose _name_ I don't even know. I risked my heart for a man who did not love me enough to even tell me _why_ he had to leave."

She tried to inhale but the breath seemed to catch in her throat.

"I wanted to contact you, to write a letter, to know you were _safe_. Would that have been too much to ask?"

"You could have been put at risk."

"Risk?!" She laughed, a flat humorless sound that rang like a dirge, "Did you know that had I been _anyone_ but the Inquisitor my own clan would have been forced to cast me and the children out?"

The light in her eyes vanished, "It wouldn't have taken an ancient tevinter magister to kill us, then. On no, it would have been something _simple_, like hunger, or cold or _illness_."

"Why?" Solas sounded horrified, "Why would they do such a thing?"

"Because it is _shameful_ among the Dalish to have a child without a partner. Because it is a _burden_ for the clan to lose a hunter and gain two mouths to feed. And in my case I brought twins, not just the one."

"They would turn out a mother and child in need of help?" He sounded outraged.

"They would have chosen the needs of the clan over the needs of the individual." She responded, "I am Dalish. I have been raised all my life to know these things. It is not a surprise."

He shook his head, unable to comprehend, "But then why-"

_Why then did you risk children if you knew these were the costs?_

But he never asked that question, and she watched as Solas' courage wavered, as it _failed_.

He looked at her, staggered, ashen, "You thought I would be there."

Lavellan shook her head, "No. We were not bonded, I _expected_ nothing."

_But I wanted..._she swallowed the whisper of pain that came with the realization that even now he did not know her as well as she had hoped. As well as she had believed.

"We'll be leaving in the morning." She said, looked at him, "Are you coming with us?"

"I-" Solas' expression tightened, and in it she saw her answer.

"I see." She swallowed down the lump in her throat, "Very well, then I will bid you goodnight now, and goodbye tomorrow."

And without another word she turned and disappeared back into the house. But it was a cold bed she returned to, and her pillow grew only colder with the wet of her tears.

The next morning she rose early to care for the Hart.

Feeding it a small treat as she gently brushed the fine pink fur, the spotted hide that looked like dappled sunsets, she kept herself focused on the task at hand, unwilling to allow even the smallest wander of her thoughts.

She felt hollow, as if someone had scraped away the inside of her chest, her mind, leaving nothing but an empty vessel. It hurt to think, to do more than just work, and so she contented herself with the steady rhythm of her chore. Later she took time to pack provisions for the journey, and later still she went in search of the cart that would carry Dheron's broken body.

With each completed task the sun seemed a little further in the sky, a little higher and brighter than before. And it was only when she was doing her final check of supplies that Solas finally appeared, his expression serious as he scanned the meager bags and blankets she would bring.

"You are leaving soon?"

She didn't have the strength to answer him, merely nodded as she shouldered her personal pack and settled its weight against her. Dressed as he was in his cloak, it almost looked as if he could have made the journey with her. He no longer had a staff with which to travel, but there was a shorter more sturdy length of wood in his grasp, one she supposed would work well in traversing the uneven ground.

Perhaps he intended to leave that very day as well.

Turning back to the Hart, she busied herself tying her bedroll more securely, double checking the provisions for what would be the third time that day.

Gathering her courage, her strength for that final goodbye, her fingers fumbled with the knots of her pack, her vision blurring with the threat of tears she thought long since spent.

"Lavellan..."

She bit her lip, inhaled unsteadily as she waited for his words, for what would be his _final _farewell.

"I wish to come with you."

His voice cut through her, stilled her fingers in an instant as it left her stunned.

"If you will have me, I would journey with you to Wycome." There was a pain in his voice and she dared not turn around for fear of what expression she might find upon his face.

"To meet the children?" She asked hoarsely, unable to turn, unable to do more that cast unseeing eyes into the distance as emotion rolled through her.

"Yes, to meet our sons."

She closed her eyes and took a single silent breath.

"Very well."


	20. Introduction

**AN:** Hello my lovelies - thanks for all of your wonderful feedback and support on the last chapter! It continues to thrill me so see how many of you are enjoying the story so thank you for taking the time to let me know.

Alliel - I'm glad my careful tiptoe around Lavellan's appearance/class etc. is working for you. It's made a big impact on how she deals with high-tension situations so I'm hoping moving forward I can continue to make it an immersive experience for everyone. And you did a good job with your guess - so no worries!

Midnight, Elizabish, Dazja, LifeandFire, DemonDragon, SillyWordSnob,Briarthorne, Lillian - Thank you all so much for your kind words! Your passion makes me smile and want to continue to entertain (and keep you all on your toes). I hope to keep you guessing until the very end!

WarriorsFan - Thanks so much for your feedback! And I encourage you to finish out the game, Bioware did a wonderful job so you should get through for sure!

I hope you all enjoy this next bit. Thanks again for all your support!

Enjoy,

Voi

* * *

They had traveled in silence for the majority of the trip.

It was not the sort of comforting quiet of lovers, nor even the peaceful silence of friends. No, instead the void between them exuded the sort of uncomfortable cold that belonged to strangers.

The words were there of course, just beneath the surface. Solas could all but feel them filling his lungs until he wondered if they might just burst from his chest. Rejecting the stubborn closure of his mouth in order to fill the air, the pressure of those unspoken words seemed to grow with time, bolstered by the fact that he _wished_ to tell her.

The _truth_, he could taste it on the tip of his tongue.

He wanted so badly to do as she asked, to sit before her and explain it all. But to speak of the Dread Wolf and the trappings of his true self was to court a very different pain than this estranged loneliness.

Lavellan was a woman of intellect and keen instinct. He dared not reveal more for fear that she would discover that which would put her most in danger. The revelation of her role as mother to his children had only heightened his desire to see her safe.

There was little he would not do to keep them _all _safe, even if that meant risking alienation in the process.

Glancing to his side where she walked, he watched the play of light, of expression, on her face. Even now she seemed to be thinking, no doubt dissecting it with the studied focus of a scholar, observing them with the sharp eyes of a hunter.

He wondered what she would make of the dream, the nightmare, that continued to haunt him. Despite the care he took in clearing his mind, quieting the tempest of his mind, the darkness continued to hunt him.

_Even now._

It did not matter that his eyes remained open, he saw the shadow of the dread wolf at his feet, and there, at the corner of his vision was the sharp point of the hunter's arrow, poised to strike. It was this vision that had ultimately forced his decision.

The image of their children left alone to face the consequences of their fathers lineage was not something he was ready to ignore. Lavellan would protect them, but this was something he had to do. It was _his_ responsibility, his _duty_ as much as his other quest.

"Solas."

She said his name suddenly, the tone in her voice making his senses pickle in awareness, muscles tensing as if there was trouble.

But no sooner had he straightened, his eyes flashing in the direction of where she was looking, when he found himself faced with the familiar shape of a man walking down the path towards them.

Cole.

He was no longer wearing his hat, but it was impossible to mistake the spirit for anyone else. The young man laughed in surprise when he was close enough to recognize the three travelers. Still so much a child despite the fact that he was three years older, wiser, he all but bounced with excitement.

"Welcome, welcome!" His words flew from him like many winged birds, "We have been waiting patiently but now the time for waiting is over!"

He seemed taller somehow, as if he had grown. Solas no longer had to bend down to look him in they eye, and found rather that he had to tilt his head ever so slightly up instead.

_Did spirits grow?_ It seemed Cole did.

"Confused and curious, considering all the options." Cole grinned, "You are not the same either, Solas. You sound different, darker, but there is a brightness in you that remains."

"It will not go out here." The spirit promised solemnly, "Not with _them_."

And with this last comment he gestured up, over his shoulder to where a pair of big blue eyes blinked and watched in silence. It was only then that Solas noticed the child. Face still clinging to the last of baby fat, the mop of unruly tawny hair atop the head was such a familiar shade that the sight of it stole the breath from his lungs.

Solas had thought he might have time to adjust, to get ready, for this eventual meeting. Looking at those eyes, he realized that no amount of preparation would have been enough.

_Mythal would have understood the sensation that jolted through him, would have found his stunned surprise amusing._

The little boy looked down at him from his perch, turning a moment later to where his mother lingered at Solas' side, expression never breaking from that serious pout that seemed so like Lavellan. But there was no mistaking his parentage, his _paternal_ heritage, and Solas stared in wonder to see his own features carved in perfect miniature.

"Solas?" Distantly he could feel the brush of Lavellan's hand on his arm, reassuringly warm through the thinness of his shirt-sleeve, "This is Numinehn."

The youngest. _Their_ youngest son.

Solas felt his heart give a little shudder of relief as the small elven boy tilted his head to the side, expression morphing into one of surprise and joy.

He had her smile.

"Mamae!" Little voice clear as a bell, his expression was one of perfect happiness, of contentment that spoke volumes for the bond between them.

Lavellan met his enthusiasm with a smile of her own, and she stepped forward as she opened her arms. A second later she had plucked him from the carrying harness Cole wore, swinging him around until his hearty giggles had filled the air with brightness.

"Mamae!" He howled in laughter until she finally settled him at her hip. And then, with the familiarity of a long practiced motion, their youngest snuggled into her, tucking his head into the place where neck met shoulder.

Solas felt the air freeze in his lungs as his eyes drank in the sight, at the perfect image they made, mother and child. How easy it was to want to be part of that picture, to let his imagination and selfish desire conjure that image of family.

"You found him." The little boy said happily, dreamily, "Era'fen was not sure. But I knew you would."

"Found who, da'vhenan?" Lavellan asked vaguely as her features creased in confusion.

"Him." Numinehn's finger unfurled to point unsteadily at Solas' torso. And then, because his mother seemed to have lost her ability to speak, their son spoke to him directly for the first time, "You're from the dream."

Solas stilled, awareness prickling the back of his neck, "Your dream?"

The tawny hair swished back and forth and his son shook his head.

"No, it is Era'fen's dream." His son explained, "But he shares with me."

"Does he?" Curiosity colored Solas' voice, cutting through the surprise.

"Yes. It is fun and we do not get lonely when we dream together."

Given Lavellan's lack of reaction, Solas realized that such dream sharing was common for their children, their sons.

_Did she realize how rare a skill it was? How special?_

He doubted she did, but then, that was to be expected. The Dalish had lost so much knowledge, was not for the first time Solas felt responsible for that loss. His feelings on the matter however did not however excuse the fact that his sons had the ability.

Such a thing had been rare even in ancient Elvhenan.

"Speaking of Era'fen. Where is your brother?"

Lavellan spoke as she rubbed the soft curve of the child's back. After weeks away, struggling to survive, to keep them safe, even the smallest gestures seemed amplified. It was impossible to know if she meant to soothe their son or herself with that slow repetition of movement, but Solas could read the relief on her face as she held their son close, as she pressed her lips to the crown of bright hair and inhaled that sweet not-quite-baby scent.

"Quiet, warm. Shaken by fear and hurt. The relief almost makes her knees weak but she is strong, made stronger still by what has just happened. Darkness and sharp teeth, but she stood firm."

Cole murmured, low enough that it did not interrupt Lavellan's conversation with her son. But Solas understood well enough, the spirit of compassion meant for him to hear, to know.

"The lies hurt more than the not knowing. Bruised heart, battered. But the little hearts help, soft, tender. She has missed them. _At least this love is forever_ -"

Cole broke off suddenly, gasped, as he verbally stumbled, "I-I'm sorry. I should not have said that."

"It is alright, Cole." But Solas could feel the guilt like an icy lump in his throat.

"No. She would not have liked me to tell you." Cole's face turned to look at him, expression serious, gaze lingering until Solas could see the ageless, ancient, spirit within, "I _promised _her. It cannot happen again. Like you said once, some knots cannot be untangled."

"You mean hurts."

"Yes." Cole looked suddenly sad, "Some hurts cannot be healed."

The sound of Lavellan talking with Numinehn grew steadily more important as the spirit lapsed into uneasy silence.

"He's with the Keeper?"

"Yes, because he was grumpy and did not listen to Eurella when she was telling everyone a story."

"I see." She smiled, "And you said I had to go visit the Keeper as well?"

"Yes." Numinehan repeated patiently, "She has a secret to tell you. Said it was important."

"She didn't tell you?" Lavellan's brows rose, "Is it a surprise?"

"No. But she said I would not understand." Numinehn frowned, "I _would_ have understood. I'm _smart_."

His mother's curved further upwards, and her hands smoothed the curve of his cheek. Soothing the little male ego that had been bruised by the keeper's choice of words, she said softly, "Yes. You and your brother are both very smart."

Then she asked, "Do you want to come with me, or stay with Cole?"

"I can't go." Numinehn huffed, baby-face turning into one of exasperation. "The Keeper said you had to go by yourself. A secret for adults."

"Ah, so Mamae cannot bring you with her?"

"No." Numinehn pouted, wrinkling his nose, "I stay."

He squirmed in her arms then until she was forced to put him down. Kneeling in the dirt beside him she tucked a wayward bit of hair away from his face and straightened his shirt. A mother worrying for her child, enjoying the tasks of her position.

She kissed his cheek, "Why don't you help Cole find a place for Solas to stay while he's here."

Blue eyes flickered to look at Solas for only a moment.

"He cannot live with us?" The little elfling asked, confused.

"We do not have room da'vhenan." She reminded him, "You are already sharing a bed with your brother, and there is no room for another in the house."

"_You_ can share a bed with him." Numinehn responded with practical logic of a child, as if such a thing was the most obvious solution.

"Ah." Her cheeks flushed for only a moment before her placating smile pushed to the forefront, "Well, we are bigger than you and your brother. I am not sure that both of us would fit in the bed."

"But-"

"Go with Cole and find Solas a place to stay." She repeated as she slowly straightened, "And don't run off without them. Do you understand?"

The boy, their son, said nothing, merely looked up at her with that sad sort of expression he had inherited from his father. That contemplative face that seemed to strike at her very heart.

"Numinehn," She sighed, bending down to press a kiss to the crown of his head, "Did you hear your Mamae?"

"Yes." He looked up at her and offered a smile.

"I'll be back in time for the evening meal." She promised, "And then maybe you can introduce Solas to your brother too?"

He nodded but said nothing once more. It was only when she had gone, leading the Hart towards the town center that he spoke again.

"In-tro-duce?" The little elf tested the word, looking to Solas as his brow furrowed in confusion. "But Era'fen already knows you."

It was not the answer his father had expected.

"Perhaps you can introduce _me_ to your brother, then."

Solas smiled, trying to take the curious question in stride. He was not sure what to make of the fact that apparently he needed no introduction to his own sons. It had been a long time since he had found himself so vastly unprepared for such a meeting.

"Was there something else troubling you, da'len?" Solas asked softly, lowering himself to his knees when Numinehn's frown persisted.

The child was silent for a long moment as his eyes skimmed the cloak and belt of Solas' person. Taking several short steps back and forth, the elfling sniffed in confusion, "Where is your fluffy? Your tail?"

He tilted his head to the side, scrubbed his cheek with the back of his hand as his frown deepened. "In the dream, you did not look like you. Why do you hide now? Will it upset Mamae?"

The question made Solas' neck prickle for the second time that day, stunned him. Disarmed and rendered mute, he stared at the boy, at the child he had helped create, and felt as if _he_ were the untutored youth.

But before Solas could respond, could even consider framing an answer, Cole piped up, swift words pacifying with a skill that spoke of much practice and discretion.

"It is hidden, hiding, like a game. But we do not want it to appear now. It is too angry and hurt. Maybe later."

There was a beat of silence as Numinehn looked at the young man, the spirit, and considered the words that were also a warning.

And then, a smile, a recognition of something else, before he nodded gamely.

"I understand." The little head bobbled up and down, "Later."

"Then shall we find Solas a place to sleep?" Cole suggested, "Soft and serene, a place to rest a weary head and exhausted mind. Home."

"Yes!" Numinehn's smile grew brighter as he turned to the man who was his father. And though Solas had quickly learned to expect anything and everything when it came to his youngest son, the next request surprised him in a very different way.

"Up?"

Numinehn's expression was trusting and sweet as he raised his short arms, gesturing with his whole body, willing Solas to understand.

It was impossible to misread, and Solas' heart warmed, _ached_, as he nodded mutely in response, opened his own arms to receive the little body that all but threw itself into his embrace.

The child smelled of the forest and elfroot, the sweetness of flowers and there, beneath it all the lingering perfume of his mother, of his father.

The scent was unmistakable, and to his sensitive nose, marked them for what they were.

_Pack. Family.  
_

And as Numinehn curled into his chest, little head tucked beneath his chin, Solas knew, in a very real way, just what Lavellan had fought so hard to protect.


	21. Duty

AN: That last chapter got a tremendous round of support - so thanks to everyone who wrote me and took the time to send their love. It's been absolutely humbling to see how this fic has touched people so I hope i can keep doing it justice, and keep you all properly involved in the process. Many of you are so often on the mark when it comes to guessing what will happen next that I have to work extra hard to keep things interesting :)

We had a few questions questions that I have attempted to answer below. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this chapter, I've literally had this part in mind since I wrote chapter 01 so it's been a long time coming. Let me know what you think!

1 - Alliel: The high ones' spirit, does he still float around lavellan or did he leave at some point?

Answer: The High One is (in my mind) tied to the Temple of Dirthamen, so he can only really linger in the ruins. When Lav &amp; co left, he was left behind. Though we may not have seen the last of him...

2 - DROH: So you left him more spirit like then human?

Answer: Much like how I've been handling Lavellan, I'm actually going to try and keep this ambiguous. I tried both versions in the game and honestly had a hard time picking a favorite version. Cole will definitely have some very human moments, but he is a spirit, and so I think i can use his 'other-ness' to help our heroes along as well.

All the best,

~Voi

* * *

"This was not what we had agreed on."

Lavellan's tone, firm and uncompromising, had made lesser men tremble, had bolstered troops before fortress siege and set the tone of the campaign against Corypheus. But for Keeper Deshanna, the words, the stubbornness, were familiar hallmarks of the child she had helped raise.

"I know this is not how we had planned it, da'len but there is little we can do now. In our last letter, we both agreed that it was for the best."

Lavellan glanced furtively out the window, to where the scattered banners illustrated the source of their contention. Clans, several of them, had taken up residence in and around Wycome, and none of them seemed to be in a particular hurry to leave.

Sighing, she slowly settled herself across from where her elder sat, taking solace in the warm wrinkled face that watched her with concern.

"Why would they not wait?" She asked, though part of her knew the answer, "The Arlathvhen is to be in Halamshiral soon enough."

"Perhaps they believed they would have a better chance of receiving your singular attention if they appeared here."

The younger woman frowned, "All the more reason to ignore them, then. This is not what we agreed upon, Keeper."

"I understand. But it seems that despite the precise wording of our message there is no overcoming the powerful passions of love."

Lavellan snorted, "We both know this is not about love."

"You are correct." And this time the keeper seemed apologetic, "This is about power. But I do not lie when I say that our messengers were met with a many eager young men."

Lavellan glanced at the impressive collection of messages that had been carefully collected into a basket, awaiting her attention. Under the circumstances she might have felt flattered, but the sight of the intricately embossed vellum just made her heart all the heavier.

It had taken her a long time to accept what had to be done, for the clan, for her children. But having it pushed upon her now, so soon, brought back all the reservations she had struggled with before.

"I told you I would consider only _one." _She had to say the words, to remind them both of her stipulation. She did not want to _choose _her match so much as decide whether to accept or reject the option she was given. It was simpler that way. Colder.

"Indeed, and I sent for only one. Though you can see from the volume of correspondence that it is lucky we received only two official entourages from our neighboring clans."

"Maybe this was all a big mistake." Lavellan rubbed slow circles into her temples, trying desperately to stave off the headache she could feel building. "I should have let you and the clan move on. I have the Inquisition, perhaps it would have been enough."

"And be lost to us, da'len?" The keeper reached across the table to squeeze her free hand, "We both know it would bring nothing but sorrow, for us all."

Deshanna's words were the truth, neither could deny it. And as Lavellan lapsed into studied silence her eyes fell to where her eldest son lay sleeping in the Keeper's nest of pillows and blankets.

Orange hair, eyes the stormy blue-grey of his father. He might have looked nearly identical to his brother but in temperament he could not have been more different. He was her fierce one. Deceptively quiet, his stillness masked a passionate heart, a protective streak that she knew meant Numinehn would never be alone.

They had each other, they had _her_; but was it enough?

Her heart caught in her throat and she turned back to where the Keeper sat across from her, wizened features creased in understanding.

Swallowing slowly, she said, "You said two clans arrived?"

The keeper patted her hand, "Yes. Two."

Lavellan nodded absently, eyes returning once more to her son. "What are their names?"

"The first is one is an old one, Clan Ehnuvhen. They have a reputation for their talented keepers, their adherence to the ancient ways."

"Do they?" The younger woman could almost swear there was a bubble of amusement beneath the suffocating weight of indecision. She wondered what Solas would make of that reputation. The name, Ehnuvhen, did not sound familiar to her, but she could appreciate the dedication of those Dalish clans who continued to search for their lost history.

She and Solas had argued over this topic in the beginning. Time had lent itself well, and with familiarity came mutual respect, the joy of heated discussion, a series of impassioned debates that had broadened both of their understandings.

In retrospect, the irony of their conversations did not amuse as much as she might have hoped.

"They sound...appropriate." She asked before her lips could curve into yet another frown, "Were they the ones you invited?"

"No." The old woman smiled, shook her head, "Because you have children, I thought you might do better with a more moderate clan. Though I admit it was difficult to find one that could claim or offer a candidate worthy of your own feats."

There was pride there, warmth in Deshanna's words. Lavellan knew the keeper would have searched high and low for just the right man, the right partner. Deshanna had been the clan matriarch since before Lavellan had been born, and she treated all of them like they were her grandchildren. None more so than her.

"Which clan then?" she asked, "Which was your choice for me?"

"The Sabrae Clan, from southern Thedas. We have always had good relations with them, and the hunter they offered seemed..._appropriate_." Her wizened expression cracked into a smile as she re-used Lavellan's own word. "He is almost worthy of you, da'len."

Lavellan laughed, and for a moment the tension, the weight of her choice was forgotten, "_Almost_?"

"He met with me just the other day, and I must say I think you will find his most handsome."

The older woman's words made both of their smiles linger.

"I did not realize the Dalish were allowed to choose partners based on beauty." The younger woman teased, "Are we not hunters first, keeper?"

"Oh, this one is hunter enough that it will not be a problem. There is nothing he cannot hunt, no beast that can outrun his arrows."

The words should have inspired her, but instead the joy that had found itself on her lips slipped just as quickly off. And with its demise came the weighty return of dread, of duty.

"What is it, da'len?"

"Among the Dalish, one does not have children without a bond mate." She struggled as she repeated the teachings she had learned as an elfling. It ached to repeat them now, when she had seemingly ignored so many of them.

"Those that do, have children without such bonds, are...ostracized. Left to fend for themselves. It is why I raised my children at the Keep."

Deshanna frowned, but knew the younger woman spoke the truth, "Yes, but sometimes our dearest ones die, da'len. Those with children are not scorned for their misfortune."

Lavellan swallowed the lump in her throat, "I am not one of those people, keeper. I did not partake in any bonding ceremony and the man whose children I bore, he- "

"He is still alive." The keeper spoke the words with that knowing look in her eye, the one that spoke of countless years, generations, of being a leader. There was compassion in her voice, tenderness that reminded her younger charge of all the years she had come asking for mentorship.

Grief made Lavellan nod.

"I know it wounds you, da'len. But if he will not be father to your children then is it not better to find one who will? You are talented and a natural mother, but it is a father who must teach boys to be Dalish men."

The keeper sighed, "Or is it that their father is the handsome elven man you brought with you, the one called Solas?"

Lavellan's face paled, then flushed again, "How did you know? We have only just arrived, and you have not even seen him."

"Cole means well, but he still has a hard time knowing when to speak and what is appropriate to speak of." Despite his human appearance, all in the clan had grown used to, and even fond, of the spirit boy.

"Also, he is not so adept at making people forget, despite his wish." Deshanna's dry observation was met with only the most faint smile.

"Is he here to make things right, da'len?"

"He..." Lavellan glanced at her son again, felt her heart shudder, "I...wished him to know the children. He cannot be my bond mate."

"Cannot or will not?" Her mentor asked gently.

"Cannot." Lavellan's response was fierce, immediate, "He is a good man despite his choices. But there are...other considerations. And despite my own wishes-"

The keeper watched the emotion on her face, saw the effort it took to restrain the sorrow, the pain, "I agreed to consider this match already, Keeper. Let that be enough."

"We are not asking you to cut out your heart in the process, da'len."

"I know." She pressed her face into her palms for a long moment before her slow, steady, exhale brought her out of it, "But it is time to move on. Time I _try_."

"Then...shall I arrange for you to meet the hunter tomorrow?"

Lavellan nodded, resolute, "Yes. I can be at here around mid-day. Is that acceptable to you?"

"Of course, da'len." Deshanna gestured to where Era'fen was only just beginning to stir, "Now why not take your eldest boy and enjoy your first day back?"

"And Lavellan -"

"Yes?"

She responded but was only half listening as she knelt beside her eldest. Gently easing him from the pillows, wiping the bit of drool from the corner of his mouth. His eyes, opened, lips curved into a smile, just as the keeper's voice echoed in her ear.

"Welcome home, da'len."


	22. Good

AN: Thanks to everyone who responded to that last chapter and joined up! You guys continue to make this story such a pleasure to write.

Thanks so much - all the best!

Enjoy,

~Voi

* * *

Their walk from the keeper's aravel to their own home towards the outskirts of the city was a quiet one. A contented one. Though it was getting to be late in the day the sun still shone brightly, and the breeze carried with it the scent of evening meals beginning to cook.

Looking down to where her son was holding her hand, Lavellan smiled at the familiarity of his little hand in her own. It felt as if it had been an eternity since she had last seen her children, and she treasured her ability to enjoy such time with them now.

Unlike his brother who reveled in the flurry of words and smiles and noise, Era'fen was reserved by nature. Observant, nondescript, he seemed to have inherited his father's penchant for moving unseen. But there was no doubting his role as older brother, and though his temper was slow to burn, Lavellan had observed it to be a fiery one when finally set loose.

He was not angry now, but there was something distinctly unhappy in his expression. Lavellan had only to take one look at the wrinkle in his brow, the slight downturn of his lips, to know it would take more than just a few careful questions to get to the root of the problem.

That they arrived in front of her son's favorite pastry cart only a moment later seemed appropriate. Era'fen's soft exhalation of delight only served to prove her instincts correct. He was a smart little boy, but frilly cakes were a treat no child could resist.

Especially since Era'fen was, in many ways, a perfect reflection of his father.

Settling on the low wall, she watched as her son began to indulge in his snack. Slow, meticulous, he peeled the ruffled paper away from the moist yellow round like petals of a flower, but offered the first piece, the first torn edge, to her.

"Thank you da'vhenan."

Touched, she accepted the bite-sized morsel, popping it into her mouth when he continued to watch her. Savoring the burst of sweet, the ribbon of honey that swirled in the delicate spongy cake, she smiled as she opened her eyes. But one look at his still-furrowed brow had her leaning forward in concern.

"Era'fen, is everything ok?"

Instead of answering her, her eldest instead took a bite of his cake, looking at her guiltily for only a moment before turning to look at his feet. Something was bothering him, that much was obvious now. But she could afford to be patient, to give him time.

Nibble after nibble she waited, wondered. It was only after her looked up at her, cake finished, crumbs clinging to his lips, that she realized he was ready to speak.

"What is on your mind, da'vhenan?" She asked gently, "You look so unhappy."

"_You_ have unhappy thoughts." Era'fen said after a long minute, blue-grey eyes blinking slowly as he spoke, "It makes me sad."

In the face of his own comments Lavellan smiled, willed her features to smooth and ease. The last thing she wanted to do was worry her own children when it was such a pleasure to just be around them once more.

Gently brushing the crumbs from the corners of his mouth, she tried to simplify her experience into something he might understand. He was a very bright boy, both of her sons were, but it was a mother's place to shield them for as long as she could.

"I've just had a lot to think about recently. Grown-up issues that need to be solved. It will be finished soon though, I promise. I am glad to be home, with you and your brother."

"Do you need help?" Era'fen's little face was so earnest it melted her heart, "If I can't help, maybe Cole?"

"What about Numinehn?" Lavellan asked with a smile, wondering at the exclusion.

"He is smart, but not smarter than _me_. Besides, it would just make him sad." Her eldest clung to her hem of her cloak, "You hurt, Cole told me, but said not to tell Numinehn. It would just make him cry. "

Lavellan tried to soothe the pain with a gentle caress, took her messy child into her arms and held him close. Every mothering instinct demanded she ease his mind, but she could find no words, no truths that would fully explain the complicated dance she had found herself caught in.

"You're pretending you don't hurt, but you have the little line, right there that says something on your mind is not good." Era'fen whispered into her chest, trembled with the force of his empathy, "Will you not tell me, Mamae?"

"Oh da'vhenan," She kissed the top of his head and held him tight, "I cannot even begin to explain it fully to the Keeper. It is very complicated. But I am close to a solution, I think."

"This is because of _him_, the wolf who is visiting."

His words were spoken like an accusation rather than a question. But when she made to deny them, she found herself looking at his serious little face and felt the words die on her lips.

It seemed that, unlike his brother, there was no instant adoration for the man who had sired him. Rather, it seemed the opposite. The irony was that in that moment, with that quiet disapproval and insightful frown, Lavellan could not help but draw comparisons between father and son.

"He is here because he wants to know you and your brother." Swallowing a knot of emotion she smiled encouragingly, "Be kind to him, be open. He is a good man."

Era'fen hesitated, turned his storm colored eyes up to look at her, "There are tears behind your eyes, did he hurt you?"

Lavellan had never withheld information about Solas from her sons, but it seemed Era'fen's perception of the situation was sharper than she had expected. More accurate than she was willing to admit to.

"He did not mean to." She said softly before she pressed her lips to his brow, "And I have you and your brother because of him. So I can forgive him because in return I have received such _joy_."

She smiled then, a tender one that belonged between mother and child. And when she straightened, arms carrying his weight easily, she was treated to a small snuggle in return.

"Come, shall we go home now? It is nearly time to make the evening meal."

"But what abut the cake?"

Lavellan quirked her brow as she disposed of the empty paper, "What cake?" She asked as if she had no idea what her son was talking about. His answering grin, the flash of mischief beneath the quiet, made her lips curve all the more.

"Shall it be our secret, my little one?" She said with a laugh.

"Yes, Mamae."

Together amidst the laughter and smiles they made their way home.

Their arrival several minutes later however drew their merriment to an abrupt close, for the windows were dark, and there was no hint of noise from within. There was however a note stuck to the door, pinned carefully with one of the small daggers she recognized as belonging to Cole.

It read simply, _Wilem's house in the forest._

And just like that the tension disappeared. All in the village knew of the cabin, had charmingly renamed it the Hermit House because of it's very private locale. Lavellan didn't doubt it would suit Solas' nature perfectly.

Thus, what she found when they arrived at the small wood and stone house was not so much of a surprise so much as a confirmation of the truth. Laughter and warmth, the scent of food upon the fire, there was no missing the sense of rightness that stemmed from his presence there.

A hermit in his home.

Her heart ached, because though it made _sense_, it was also incorrect.

Solas had made no _home_ here in Wycome. Like everything else about him this was a temporary arrangement, another thing he would walk away from if need be.

As if he had heard the direction of the thoughts, Era'fen looked at her. Tightening the grip on her hand, he slowed to a stop just outside the cone of light that pooled around the house. Swathed in the purple shadows of sunset, his little expression seemed suddenly carved of stone, ages older than it should have been.

"Da'vhenan?" Lavellan leaned over until she could easily meet his gaze. His eyes, distant and unfocused, slowly tracked from his mother to the figure who had appeared in the open doorway.

"You said he was a good man."

The little boy spoke slowly.

"Yes." She touched his cheek until his attention returned, "You should try to get to know him."

Instead, Era'fen shook his head, frown deepening, expression tightening, as he said softly, passionately. "A good man would not make tears appear behind your eyes."

And without another word, he began to walk towards the house, carrying with him the threat of an impending storm.


	23. Sons

AN: Hello all! Thanks so much for the continued outpouring of support. Many of you have expressed how much you appreciate the twins and I wanted to say thank you! I know exactly how tempting it can be for OC babies to be a quick fix to story issues - but we all deserve a better/more complex solution than that. If you ever feel I'm heading in that direction please don't hesitate to call me out on it!

Also for the Dalish/Elvish linguists out there: I was looking for it online, but does anyone know what the dalish equivalent of "father" or "papa" might be? We have 'mamae' for mother/mama - but I could not find anything for the paternal relation. Let me know if you have a resource!

Thanks again everyone - I hope you enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

The confrontation with his eldest son was not unlike meeting a smaller, colder, version of his younger self. Ice where he had been fire, Era'fen would have found kinship with that younger Solas, would have found the pursuit of honesty and _right _a powerful bond.

Both boys were sharp, remarkably so. But where Numinehn seemed content to let past mistakes remain unmentioned, Era'fen seemed determined to remember.

It was a trait that also reminded Solas unsettlingly of his _current _self.

"I do not like you."

Those were the first words his eldest son said to him. Dismissing any attempt at pleasantries or introductions, his child-soft features were hard as he craned his little head to look up to Solas' own towering height.

"You made Mamae sad." The little boy scowled, "You have not visited us until today, and though Numinehn may like you, I do _not_."

He huffed a little, looking every inch the wolf he was by lineage.

"You are older than me, taller than me, and _bigger _than me. But if you think I am _weak _then you are not as smart as you think."

Jerking his head in the direction of his twin he continued, "They are my family, and I _will _protect them from _you_ if need be."

And then the tough exterior broke, cracked, and for a single moment Solas saw the little boy Era'fen was, rather than the impressive temper and maturity he had projected so effectively.

"She says you are a good man," There were no tears, but his lips trembled, "But 'good' men do not make people cry, do they?"

Solas swallowed hard but shook his head, "No, they do not. And I have not always been a good man."

His words seemed to soothe a small hurt, tempering the jagged hostility that remained turned against him.

"Mamae says I should give you a chance." Era'fen whispered, "You know you are wrong and admit it. I will try to do as she asked. But if you make her cry, I will never forgive you. _Never_."

And before Solas could respond, before he could force words past a throat that had tightened to the point of pain, his eldest disappeared into the house. However, on the exiting of one came the arrival of another, _taller _person, and Solas straightened when Lavellan finally into the warm light of the cottage.

"There you are." His greeting was tempered by uncomfortable tightness in his chest, "I was not sure you would wish to visit me."

"After all the time I took in asking you here?" Her brows rose in surprise, giving away no hint as to whether she had heard the heated exchange that had transpired not a moment earlier.

"At the very least I was going to introduce you to _both _boys." She shrugged, "It makes sense, does it not?"

Solas nodded absently as he took in the image she made. A woman returned home, he could see the ease in her softened features, the glow of the house dancing over her mused hair until it looked like a wreath of light, of hope.

He swallowed.

"Era'fen is very much like me."

The smile that crept upon her face was knowing, "In some ways they both are. But yes, our eldest more than his brother."

It hurt, _ached_, to talk about their eldest, but speaking about what had transpired earlier was impossible. Solas knew the words spoken between father and son were not those meant for their most beloved lady, and so he willed himself to move past the pain.

It involved changing the subject, albeit ever so slightly.

"Numinehn reminds me of _you_."

His comment seemed to amuse her, and he enjoyed seeing the corner of her mouth quirk upward in humor.

"Truly?"

"He is a gentle heart, but he knows how to get his way." Solas gestured to the table where the telltale paper wrappers of two frilly cakes lay upon the table. "It was impossible to remain firm when he gave me that _look_."

"Which look?" She asked, though by the curve of her lips, the teasing lilt of her voice she knew _exactly _what he was talking about.

"The one _you _wore whenever I refused to share my stories with you."

"I have no idea what you are speaking of." Claiming ignorance while her eyes glittered, she pointed to the second of the wrappers, the one carefully folded and creased.

"Strange, but I seem to recall that being _your _way of disposal. It must have been a terrible sacrifice for you to eat it." She said casually, "Or am I mistaken?"

Startled by the teasing, Solas bit back the smile and redoubled his efforts at sounding appropriately serious.

"I never said I did not. Merely that Numinehn insisted we purchase cakes for both Cole and himself."

"But Cole does not eat." Lavellan responded with a chuckle and quick shake of her head, "Numinehn knows this."

Solas could not quite stifle his proud grin, "He tried quite valiantly to convince me. I thought to reward his effort."

"Oh, _Solas_." Filled with such tenderness, the words matched the fond look in her eye, "How easy it is for him to wrap you around his finger."

"It was a pleasure." And there was such truth at the admission, that their shared look of amusement seemed all the warmer for it.

"You should know, Era'fen loves those frilly cakes as well." She said after a time.

"Does he?" Surprise flickered across Solas' features and he glanced behind him as if to confirm they were talking about the same child, "I never would have guessed."

"He is unexpected that way." Lavellan's voice had gentled, dropped to a low murmur, "Like you. Which leads me to ask: You made an evening meal for Numinehn? Fed him? Thank you."

She gestured to where the decadent smells were wafting from the small iron pot over the cooking fire.

"Ah." Solas shifted slightly suddenly unsure, "For all of us actually. Our youngest informed me that he never ate without his brother. I thought it best to wait in case you were detained by the Keeper."

And just like that the curve of her lips faltered and disappeared. The brightness of her eyes seemed suddenly too stark, and there was no missing the stillness with which she so carefully held herself. Taking one look at her expression, Solas felt his stomach chill and twist in response. He had thought to help, to try and ease her burden, but it seemed he had accomplished the opposite instead.

"Lavellan?"

His hand anchored itself at the bottom of his tunic to stop it from reaching out and touching her, "I apologize. If I-"

She raised a hand of her own to stop the flow of words. Expression serious, tumultuous, she looked at him and the emotion there had him floundering as much as her.

Did she know how she looked then?

His heart was at once both heavy and light beyond words.

"Thank you."

The words were spoken in a near-whisper, so soft he might have missed them had he not seen her lips move.

_Thank you_.

The words were vague enough that she could have been talking about dinner or something very different instead. But before he could ask, before he could _clarify_, she was walking away. Graceful in action, he watched as she strode through the door and drew the children to her with a few soft words.

And between the three of them, the table and meal were presented in short order.

Despite the time he had spent cooking, Solas could not even remember the taste of the food. Instead he found himself taken over by the easy domesticity of the moment, losing himself in the shy smile of his youngest son, the grumpy reserve of his eldest, the low murmur of his once-lover as she dolled out second helpings.

There was still awkwardness, given the very brief time they had all spent together such strangeness was inevitable. But in the larger span of the evening, these moments seemed relatively brief. And by the time the meal was over, the combination of the late hour and full bellies meant both boys were falling asleep in their chairs.

"I will take them home." Cole announced as he gently donned the leather carrier and settled Numinehn against his chest, "Time to sleep, slumber, close eyes and rest busy little minds. Tired, tender hearts too soft to say goodbye so instead 'see you tomorrow.'"

Cole waved with one hand while he led Era'fen by the other, and together all three disappeared down the path towards the town, towards _home_.

"Cole lives with you?" Solas asked after the three had disappeared, expression curious.

"Yes." Lavellan smiled faintly, "My third son, really. I am a lucky woman to have such well behaved boys."

"I'm glad." Solas smiled, "I had wondered what had became of him after..."

He trailed off, unwilling to spend their last moments of the evening delving back into _that _subject.

"Thank you for dinner, Solas."

Voice low, intimate, the sound of it drew his attention back to where she stood at his side. Cloak around her shoulders, the vast swath of fabric made her seem smaller somehow, delicate in a way he did not remember.

He swallowed, shrugging modestly, "I'm glad. It has been a while since I have had to cook for more than just myself."

"You did well." Supportive, her hand rested on his arm for only a moment before she pulled away, heading towards the door.

"Did something happen, at your meeting with the Keeper?" Solas asked, stopping her in the doorway with his question, "That moment before...you seemed-"

"I'd rather not speak about it." The look she gave him, the glance over her shoulder, acknowledged the truth of his words. But she made no move to explain herself, "It is nothing you nor the children need worry about."

"You are certain?" He asked, knowing she would hear the concern in his voice.

"Yes." She nodded but turned so that he could no longer see the expression on her face, "You need concern not yourself with Dalish business. There are other, more important things, to attend."

"Lavellan."

His fingers touched the sleeve of her shirt, the rolled cuff, brushed it with fingertips.

"Goodnight, Solas." She said softly, ignoring the hint of whatever else he might want to say. Fingers whispering over the back of his hand as she stepped away, she turned to him for a final time and almost managed a smile.

"Sleep well."


	24. Nightmare

AN: Hello my lovelies. I know it's been a bit heavy the last few chapters. This one is equally so and maybe more than a little dark. It deals with violence, blood and for those uncomfortable I would suggest skipping it. It basically details the nightmare Solas has been having. It will be referenced in future chapters vaguely, but for those who are sensitive I wanted to give you a heads up.

Next chapter will be a considerable change from the heavy subject matter so we're almost there!

Also, had you all noticed that in the Lavellan tarot cards (Either the hunter/wolf or First/ hart) the arrows are pointing at the creature? None of the other character cards (dwarf, human, qunari) have that. I'm using it as added fuel for the writing fire!

Thanks again for all your wonderful feedback and support.

Best,

~Voi

* * *

Sleep well, she had entreated.

_Sleep well,_ and her expression had shown that she meant her words.

But that night Solas did not sleep well at all.

Though the bed was comfortable and the four walls of his temporary home were solid, the feverish storm of his mind made it hard for dreams to come. Tossing and turning, he watched the ceiling with eyes that ached, torn between waiting for rest to come or heading out into the woods to get what peace he could.

Outside the wolves howled. It would be a full moon tonight, bright enough to travel the forest without flame. Part of him longed, hungered to traverse the land when there were no others to mind him, to wonder.

Already he could feel the cool damp of earth beneath his toes, the fresh crispness of air in his lungs as he ran. The simple illusion of it settled over him, soothed him.

And then, when he least expected it, the fatigue of his restlessness finally claimed him. Solas found himself in the Fade not a moment later. But instead of a reflection of the house and forest where he had fallen asleep, he found himself in a cavernous hall instead.

Columns of white stone rose from great troughs of water, their soaring heights covered in ornate figures of bears and ravens. Glittering, glowing, their smooth elegance was offset by the deep velvety texture of moss and climbing vines that twisted themselves around the lower reaches of the above it all hung a glittering chandelier, the mirrored facets of it's surface dispersing the light of hundreds of small blue flames, veilfire.

Still, despite the glow the shadows swirled around the architecture like fog in the forest, clinging to the ornate arches like lovers.

"Why is he here?"

The words whispered like ghosts in his ear, growing in strength and sound as he began to walk towards the far end of the hall.

"Why are you surprised? I knew he would come."

Small and childlike though the voices were, the sounds of their conversation seemed to boom in the large space, echoing off the fluted curves of the ambulatory.

Solas knew those voices and a second later he spotted them, bathed in a pool of light, their hair twin nimbuses of fire.

He knew they were Dreamers, but even then he found himself surprised.

"Boys?"

One of them stilled, but did not look up. The other met his greeting with a smile, eyes bright in greeting. His sons were here in the Fade, in his dream.

"Hello, Solas!" Numinehn waved his little arms with energetic fervor, "Welcome!"

Or was it that he was in Era'fen's dream? He slowed at the thought, feeling suddenly unsteady in this landscape. There was something uncomfortably familiar about all of it, and then he realized why. It reminded him of the nightmare he had been having, was still having.

Would that dark specter show its face here? Solas felt a chill skate along his spine.

Scanning the deep shadows and alcoves with a sharp eye, Solas closed the space between them, frown all but

"Is something wrong?" Numinehn asked, little brow furrowing into a frown of its own.

"He's worried about the hunter." Era'fen spoke up, "It's going to happen again tonight, and he wants to try and stop it."

Despite his words, the seriousness of them, the elder boy did not stop what he was doing, did not bother raising his head to address his father.

"You know of him?" Solas asked softly.

"No." Numinehn shook his head sadly, "He watches us from a distance. And then, later, he hunts us..."

"He does not mean to." Era'fen responded in clipped tones, "But we are not elves, we are wolves, and hunters kill wolves to protect their families."

His little brother nodded miserably as he lapsed into silence. Clearly this was a discussion they had had many times before.

"I won't let him hurt you." Solas promised, feeling every protective instinct shift to the forefront as he looked at the little elflings that lingered yet in his shadow.

"Good." Era'fen nodded but continued to work without pause, "Protect Numinehn."

"And what about you?" Solas pressed.

"I have to figure out how to fix this. There is never enough time."

And that was when Solas saw it, the tangled mess of thread that sat between them. Silver and white, sylvanwood and bits of burlap, the threads were as varied as they were numerous. But he recognized the components as much as he cherished the whole.

He felt his throat tighten but asked evenly, "Do you know that it is?"

"Yes." Era'fen looked up at him for the first time, eyed him fiercely, as he asked, "Do you?"

Solas' hand closed over the token around his neck, "It is your mother's necklace."

"Yes." Numinehn looked sad, "We know how to fix it. But something always happens, and then we have no time. Every time we dream the knot is undone, and we try again."

"No time?" Solas repeated in confusion, "Why? What happens?"

Era'fen hunched as he turned back to the unraveled knot, redoubling his efforts as he left his younger brother to explain once more.

"First it is the darkness...and then the hunter."

Beneath their feet the floor suddenly began to tremble. And though he had not stopped paying attention, Solas became aware of the noise that built up around them, the shouts and yells of a crowd, a mob.

They were not what he had expected, but one look at the wicked glint of weapons in the dark made the difference negligible. It did not matter that they were elves, that on some level his children shared a heritage. If these strangers meant to harm his sons then there was only one course of action.

And within him something deeper, darker resonated at the thought.

Dread Wolf.

He looked at his children with both sets of eyes, beast and man, and knew them to be his. His to raise, to teach, to guard. If there was to be blood to pay then it would belong to those that sought to harm his children.

"There are a lot of them. Do you want us to stop them?" Numinehn asked quietly as he watched the armed band draw closer.

"No." The idea of exposing his children to such horrors was beyond him, and Solas gently squeezed his son's narrow shoulder, "But you can stay close to your brother. Protect one another?"

"I understand." Blue eyes looked up trustingly, "Be careful."

Solas hesitated, "You should not see this. It will be...violent."

"I know." Numinehn's smile drooped ever so slightly, "But at least this time we do not have to kill them. You will do that instead, yes?"

Solas' skin prickled when Era'fen's stormy blue eyes lifted to show a deadness that came from seeing death, killing, up close. Too young to have such an expression, the weight of being a Dreamer had never seemed so heavy before.

"You?"

"Only here." His eldest clarified, "And only me."

Solas swallowed as his heart clenched, "I...am sorry."

"Are you?" The young boy asked softly as he looked past Solas to where the mob had moved closer.

That warning, the lack of belief beneath his words, was all Solas needed to make the transition to the Dread Wolf. Anger and temper, the stifling strangling hold of guilt drove him as harshly as any whip.

Morphing into the physical manifestation of his name was like donning a well loved coat, soft in all of the right places, and full of dangerous surprises known only to the wearer.

Perhaps if he had been with them from the start, perhaps he could have prevented such sadness. Or maybe he could have taught his son's to protect their dreams, to guard against such nightmares that hunted them with terrifying single-mindedness.

But if this nightmare sought to injure small children then it was soon to discovered the difference between them and his own indomitable force. The faceless, writhing mass of armed strangers fell to him like waves dispersed by rocky shores. There was a brutal calculation in his attacks, an exacting efficiency that left little blood on his fur but death and chaos in his wake.

And though he was quick, was thorough, no sooner had the last of the mob fallen when Solas was struck by an arrow, its sharp point find a mark in his muscled flank.

Snarling, in surprise and pain, he looked up to spy the silhouette of the hunter moving from his cover behind one of the distant columns. It seemed the nightmare had indeed followed him.

In response his rage built, howled, until he was snapping the shaft of the arrow in his mouth like a twig. The second arrow missed its mark entirely, and the third, though expertly planned, was no match for his cunning.

Wolf though he was, the thoughts in his mind were a blend, and he used themo his advantage, closing the distance between hunter and prey until it seemed their role might soon be reversed.

But the fourth arrow was not aimed at him, and his stomach twisted viciously as it sped over his shoulder, towards the twins.

"No!"

Turning, he spied the boys as they scrambled away. Era'fen, face grim and set, kept himself between the hunter and his younger brother.

"Find shelter!" Bellowing the command as he shifted from wolf to elf once more. He manipulated the Fade so that part of the land curve upward, into a rocky outcrop where they might be safe.

But while his youngest was quick to obey, to listen, Era'fen stopped the moment his brother was ensconced within. Solas did not realize it, did not see until it was far too late.

"Era'fen!"

Numinehn's horrified scream came just as his father tore the hunter in half with a combination of magic and savage intent. And by then it was too late.

By the time he staggered back to where his sons it was clear that there had been one arrow too many, and that, once again he had not been where he had been needed most.

"Solas?"

Numinehn looked up from where he clutched his brother's body, eyes large and sorrowful as he began to sob. And though it was a dream, had to be, had to be, Solas did not stop until he had both boys in his arms.

For Numinehn it was a comfort, one he latched on to with a fierce immediacy that spoke of his big heart. But for the little one that remained silent, too-still, it made no difference.

Vacant, the storm-blue stared at the ceiling with sightless eyes, lost to the ages. And yet, for the limpness of his body, there was one part that yet held firm. Solas caught sight of it as he gently lowered his eldest to the floor.

In his child-sized hands he held the Lover's Knot, the tangled loops of it caught on his fingers, stained with his blood. Incomplete, but better than it had been.

"He never leaves it."

Numinehn's voice was rough with hurt, but he lifted his head to scrub the tears from his eyes as he spoke.

"He says he needs to finish it, but the string always tangles when he does it by himself. It is better when we work together."

Solas felt the breath catch in his throat as his chest shuddered with the desperate wrenching of his heart. Touching the bloodied tethers he asked, "Why does he not take it with him?"

The little boy reached out to touch the worn threads, "The threads disappear if we try to move it far away. They unravel first, and then they vanish."

Numinehn looked from father to brother and said quietly, "I do not like this dream, make it stop. I want to go back."

And that was when Era'fen gave a final shuddering breath as tears leaked from the corners of his blank eyes. His ghostly words undoing the dream, the nightmare, as he returned them to reality.

Time to wake up.

Solas snapped awake a moment later, throat raw from the soundless screams still lodged there. And though he prevented the incoherent sound from erupting into the night, he could not remain in his bed.

He made it as far as the front door before his staggering steps failed him and he crumpled with the force of his grief.

Outside the wolves continued to howl.


	25. Decisions

AN: Hi all, apologies for the delay. Real Life has taken a turn for the crazy busy and between that and a unreliable internet connection it's been a struggle. That said, here is the next chapter in our little saga. I'll leave you to consider the subtext on your own :)

Thanks again to everyone who continues to contribute their ideas, feedback and silent support through their favorites, follows and reviews. It means a great deal and I hope you feel comfortable enough to send me a message if ever you have something you want to share, or a question you want answered. I would be more than happy to respond.

Enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

The children had slept poorly.

She had woken in the middle of the night to find Numinehn sobbing into Era'fen's small hunched form. And though her eldest had said not a word, there had been something haunted in his eyes, shadows lingering despite the light. Neither of them had spoken about what sort of thing had stirred them from their slumber. She had asked, but had received only mumbled excuses instead. It was not the first time they had refused to speak of their dreams, _nightmares most likely, _but Lavellan wished they would tell her. Every maternal instinct she had demanded she take care of them.

In the end she had had to content herself with plucking them both from their little bed, and carrying them to her own larger one. They had fallen asleep shortly thereafter, one on each side, burrowing beneath the covers until they had settled. But for Lavellan, sleep took longer in coming, and she stared up at the darkened ceiling of her room while her thoughts continued to twist upon themselves.

It was times like this that she regretted being the Inquisitor, continuing with her responsibility as leader despite her role of mother. She did not doubt she was helping Thedas, that it was the _right _thing to do, to work with the new Divine and the courts of Orlais, Nevarra and Tevinter to broker peace. But such strides forward had not been without cost, and she wondered now if she had truly been successful in her mission to balance the two roles.

It made her chest ache to see such stark relief on the faces of her children whenever she returned home, as if they had feared she had left for good. For Numinehn the expression was as vibrant as all his others. But for Era'fen...the relief in his eyes was coupled by such sadness, as if even when she returned he was already foreseeing her next departure, wondering if it would be the last time.

And yet, was that not at least partially the truth? Every time she stepped away from them, it _could _have been. Had she not faced the most dangerous combination of creatures and villains? It would have taken but _one _failure on her part to rend their world.

She swallowed as she looked down at her eldest, found him curled into her side like a puppy and felt her eyes sting with unshed tears.

He expressed it through his fierce protectiveness of his brother, his independence, the unwavering commitment he had to being a good boy. As if to show her that he could take care of the family while she tended to her responsibility, that she did not have to worry.

_Was this the life she wanted for her children? To have them hold their breath every time she was called away, wondering if she would come back?_

She exhaled roughly, hands gently smoothing over rumpled sleeping shirts and tussled hair. And not for the first time did she wonder if it was time to reconsider the offer made shortly after she had become a mother.

It was peaceful in Thedas now, more so than it had been at the time of their birth. Despite the occasional, and not unfamiliar, tension between the various groups, the stability of that the past few years seemed committed to holding on for as long as possible. Her advisors could continue on as custodians for the lands, between the three of them there would be little missed.

There needs for an Inquisitor was smaller now, perhaps it was time she formally stepped down.

She drifted off to sleep in the middle of mentally composing her farewell letter.

The ound of someone moving about the kitchen woke her shortly after sun-up, making a veritable racket so loud it made her cringe. Glancing down to find her sons still fast asleep, Lavellan slipped from the large bed and made her way out of the room, pausing for only a moment to tuck the sheets around their little bodies.

And then she was walking down the hall, towards the kitchen to find the third of her boys already up and about, enthusiastically gathering ingredients and dishes for the morning meal.

Swift and capable in combat though he was, Cole was hopelessly lost in the kitchen, like a long-limbed bird, all knobby knees and flapping around in search for something shiny. They had not yet started cooking but already there was white powder on his clothing and a smudge of something like fruit preserve on his cheek.

There was no stopping her lips from curving into an affectionate smile when he finally spotted her and froze mid-step,

"Good morning, Cole."

"Good morning!" He smiled widely, "Rested, recharged, there is much to think about and do but this hour is special. Time for Lavellan and Cole."

He brighten as he read her thoughts, "Thank you, for remembering."

"You're welcome, sweet boy." She said as she crossed the room, taking the stack of pans from his arms, "Now find your apron and put it on, or I fear your clothes will be a mess before we even begin."

Looking at the state of his hair, his shirt, she shook her head, "_More _of a mess."

"Ah...yes. Apron." His hands worked quickly to knot it properly, "I knew I had forgotten something. Small but important, a bit of fabric like a shield against stains. Protection in the form of yellow tartan and green string. Bright so I don't forget it...but I did."

"You'll remember to put it on first, next time." Lavellan said encouragingly as she donned her own apron, "You remembered to roll up your sleeves this time."

"Oh!" Cole looked at his arms as if he had not realized, and then laughed in delight, "I did!"

"Now, what shall we make?" She asked.

"I...get to choose?" Cole faltered suddenly, "But _you _always choose."

"I know. But I thought you might like to cook something _you_ were interested in."

"But I don't need to eat."

"I know. You don't _need _to. But you've enjoyed eating on occasion." Lavellan coaxed the spirit gently, "What do you think, what would you like to try today?"

"Disks of gold, fluffy like cake but not, covered in berries and sweet crème. Dorian sighs, 'This is the only civilized meal the south has ever produced. Glorious.'"

"Dorian's favorite southern dish..." Lavellan's brow furrowed for a moment, "You mean, pancakes?"

"Yes!" Cole nodded vigorously, "A stack of them, as tall the door. Dorian said they were sweet, like dessert, but you could eat them in the morning and it would be ok. Can we make those?"

Smiling serenely, the elven woman nodded as she gestured to the jars, "Yes, I think we can. Though we should start by making just a few. I'm not sure that _anyone _can eat a stack of pancakes as tall as you described."

For the next hour the two of them worked side by side to make the object of Cole's desire. Cracking, sifting, mixing, each task was done with careful consideration even if the skill did not quite match.

And though there was a mess growing in her kitchen, Lavellan regretted nothing. As patient as she was with her sons, there was a special place for the spirit boy as well. Cole had come to her, to the Inquisition, in the manner of a wayward child. Lost but well meaning, he had done what he could to understand them even as he struggled to understand himself.

That heartfelt attempt to do better, _be _better, had resonated deeply with Lavellan. And when they had vanquished Corypheus, she had made a point to tell the spirit, the _boy_, he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted. Even if there were those among her circle of friends and advisers who viewed him with suspicion, she had never seen anything but good intention and so she had kept him close.

Cole looked up from where he was stirring the final portion of batter and said suddenly, "I've been thinking about what you said before you left last time. About being a family. Would you _really _be...that is...me as your son?"

The question was enough to make her pause in the midst of heating the large baking pan. They had talked about becoming a family several times over the past few years, each time with increasing depth and understanding on Cole's part. Varric had all but assigned himself the young boy's surrogate uncle, and several other members of the Inquisition had followed.

But the role Lavellan had wanted to take up was complicated by Cole's sensitivity to the fact that she already had sons, and saw himself as somehow lacking.

"Only if that makes you happy." Lavellan replied, "You know I've always considered you part of my family."

Cole nodded but said after a while, a little bit sadly, "Spirits do not have mothers."

"I know." Her voice filled with understanding as well as compassion, "But you are not entirely a spirit anymore either. You have not been _just _a spirit in quite a while."

"I-"

"You are _unique, Cole_." She reminded gently, "And so you get to choose. You can do whatever you like, _choose _whatever you like."

The silence that followed was contemplative, punctuated by the soft sizzle of cakes on a hot pan. Turning back to cooking, she had only just begun to set the first of the golden rounds in a neat little stack when Cole's voice finally cut through the quiet.

"I do not think I could call you Mamae, like the twins do."

When she turned to look at him, Cole frowned apologetically, "But...every once and a while, may I call you something other than Inquisitor or friend?"

"Of course." Touched that he would even consider such a thing, Lavellan smiled, "What did you have in mind?"

"Might I try..." And then Cole looked away, suddenly shy, "Umm..."

She dared not push him, but her hand settled on his narrow back for a moment. Soothing, supportive, she felt him inhale a slow, shaky breath before he finally spoke again. And this time when he turned to face her, there was a hint of red on his pale cheeks.

A spirit that blushed like a boy. Truly Cole was one of a kind.

"Might I call you 'mother' like the other children in the village?" He asked, looking half terrified of his own question, "Would that be ok? I asked Varric and he said you might like it, but only if I meant it...and I _would_, I promise."

Lavellan found that despite her wishes, the reality of his acceptance was still powerful enough to surprise her, to touch her heart. And in that moment her family truly did expand that little bit more, and her fierce protectiveness settled all the more around this boy who was slowly growing into an adult.

"I would _love _to be your mother." Lavellan smiled widely as she hugged him, "Thank you."

And like the big puppy he was at heart, Cole laughed and hugged her back, embracing her with happy abandon until the smell of well-done pancake reminded them of their meal making.

"Why not wake up the boys and tell them the good news?" Lavellan prompted, "The pancakes will be ready by the time the three of your return."

"That sounds good. I am _very _hungry."

She laughed, "Then you better go now."

He got as far as the hall before a thought dawned on her, powerful enough to make her call out.

"Cole."

"Yes?" He paused and spun around, raising his blond brows until they disappeared into the long bangs on his forehead.

"You know I would have loved and cared for you the same way, even if you decided you did not want to be part of the family."

The spirit smiled, his eyes warm and dancing, "Yes, I know. And _that _is why I wanted to be your son. Because you've always liked me, for _who _I am rather than _what_."


	26. Familiar

AN: Hello my dears! Thank you all for your continued feedback and comments. I enjoy hearing from you and watching the readership grow :)

All of you - new followers and first-chapter loyalists alike - have my supreme gratitude. Know that every chapter I write is dedicated to you.

I apologize for the timing since it seems real life seems intent on keeping me busy, but the writing will continue! Here is another chapter for you all - enjoy!

Best,

Voi

* * *

Cole's unexpected gift suffused the rest of her morning in a soft glow, one of promise and optimism. Their morning meal was one filled with laughter and the soft clink of cups and plates as the food was heartily enjoyed.

And though her concern for the twins lingered, the sight of their smiling faces, void of pain or worry, eased the knot in her stomach. She had made a mental note to speak to them about their nightmare, but that could wait until the evening. It seemed wasteful to tinge such a glorious start to the day with darker memories.

Thus, they ate their meal, cleaned the messy kitchen and dressed for their day with the warm happiness of those that knew they were part of a family. And it was only after she had taken the three of her sons to the their lessons in town that she remembered her intention to resign from her position as Inquisitor.

Considering that she still bore the mark of the rift she knew it was unlikely she would be able to disappear entirely, but she was committed to this new course of action. She would write her letter to Cassandra and the Advisors that afternoon, and if Leliana's messenger raven was still roosting in the city, then her letter would likely arrive in but a few days time.

It was not hard to imagine the surprise her announcement would engender, but then, given how well they knew her it seemed likely such feeling would be swiftly followed by acceptance.

At least, that is what she hoped.

Sighing softly as she traveled along the wooded path that flowed from the town to the circle of aravels, Lavellan savored the gentle brush of sunlight on her face as she continue to turn the issue over in her mind. There was a certain steadying quality in being close to her clan, a different sort of comfort that came from being around those of her own kind, those that were her people in the most elemental sense.

But if she stepped away from the Inquisition, she knew she would miss them as fiercely as she had missed the Dalish. Though she had not expected it at the onset, the companions she had gathered along her trip had become as close as any family she could have imagined.

Cassandra, Varric, _Dorian_.

There was a mental tickle at the last name. She hoped he would not be hurt that she wished to spend more time here rather than the Keep. Dorian had been her closest friend, their connection borne of their mutual feeling of otherness. Human and a tevinter mage though he was, Lavellan could think of no finer person to call her best friend.

It had been Dorian who had supported her during the pregnancy, the agony of the birthing, the three years of balancing ruling with mothering. Given all they had been through together she knew she owed him more than the formal resignation she would be sending the formal council of the Inquisition.

She had only just resolved to compose a second letter, when she found herself face to chest with a particularly tall, and broad shouldered, elf. And though she should have been mortified, the rich masculine chuckle washed the tightness from her shoulders before it could properly settle.

"Creators," he murmured, voice warm with amusement, "Now _that_ is a proper greeting."

Teasing, familiar, Lavellan knew who he was a split second before she met his dancing eyes and welcoming smile. Hands, large and warm, settled on her shoulders as he gently eased her back.

"Theron." Her lips curved into an expression that mirrored his own, "It appears you made it here in one piece after all."

Light green flashed with amusement at her comment.

"You doubted me?" He raised a blonde brow dramatically, as he gently squeezed her shoulders, releasing her a moment later to press his hands to his heart,.

"You wound me with your lack of belief, Lavellan. I don't think I shall ever recover."

Lips twitching in order to prevent from laughing, she snorted at his showmanship, shaking her head as she glanced in the direction of the Keeper's aravel.

"I am glad to be wrong." She admitted, "It is good to see you again."

His handsome face softened, "You as well. Your journey went smoothly?"

"As well as can be expected. I was traveling with two others so it was slow, but we met no issue on the road. It did however make for a late evening yesterday."

"Ah, so you are just newly arrived."

There was something in the way he said the words that made her pause, glance at him, "Yes. But I have been busy. The Keeper had need of me so I have seen her already."

"Are you headed to her now? Again?" He questioned, curiosity coloring his words.

"Indeed." She watched him for a second longer then gestured towards the aravels so that they could begin walking once more, "If you don't mind?"

"No, not at all." Cheeks dimpled in mirth when he smiled, his head inclining slightly as he made to follow her lead.

"Speaking of the Keeper." Lavellan looked at him as they walked, "Did you find your business concluded as you wished?"

He was tall, taller than Solas even, and so for every one step he took, Lavellan had to take two. But they walked together at a companionable pace, neither one rushing nor dragging behind.

"Concluded?" Amusement flitted over his features, "Hardly. My appearance here is actually just the start of things."

His words did not quite make sense, did not crystalize until she stepped into the clearing of the Keeper's aravel. Like a puzzle falling into place, she recalled her conversation with him back at the village, her impassioned meeting with Keeper Deshanna. And that was when she knew.

Wheeling around, head snapping around as her eyes widened she felt her throat work furiously as she tried to push the words out into the air

"Creators..." She looked up at him then, really looked at him, and felt her cheeks flush, "It's _you_, isn't it?"

"Hmm?" He cocked his head to the side, lips curving into a slow grin, "Me?"

"Yes, you." She felt suddenly like a child, slow to catch on, to see the truth of things. "You're from the Sabrae clan, aren't you?"

"Ah, that." He acted as if he didn't know what she was talking about, though his eyes were bright with intelligence, a sharpness that was at odds with his carefree expressions. "Yes, I am."

"But you said..." Her brow furrowed, "Your name is Theron Sabrae?"

He laughed, shook his head, "No, I am Theron _Mahariel_. I was adopted by the Sabrae clan, they are cousins of my Father."

Then, because he could, he teased, "We cannot all be named after our clan, _Lavellan_ of Clan Lavellan."

The comment was one that had always made her flush as a child, and she was mortified to realize it could make her cheeks heat even now.

"So you are the one Keeper Deshanna...chose." The words seemed to tumble awkwardly from her mouth, and she winced a little at the amusement in sparked in Theron's eyes.

"Indeed."

"Ah." Her stomach felt funny then, "You know, for someone who traveled so far to meet your potential bond mate you do not seem particularly...worried, concerned."

"Worried?" Theron laughed, "Should I be? Does your Keeper make a habit of telling wild tales about you?"

"Umm..." Lavellan smiled weakly, "I have no idea what she did or did not tell you."

"Then it is good we are speaking, is it not?" Theron gestured towards the forest rather than the enclosed space that awaited them at the Keeper's aravel, "Would you feel more comfortable if we walk while we converse?"

The relief must have shown itself on her face, because his snort of good humor as he led the way away along a new trail was enough to make her flush anew.

"Apologies." Looking over his shoulder at her, Theron sighed, "I do not mean to find amusement at your expense."

"You've given no offense." Lavellan protested, "But I confess to being...awkward. I have never done anything like this before, and find myself startlingly out of depth."

"If it makes you feel better, I must confess to feeling similarly unbalanced." Theron slowed so that she could come up beside him.

"You hide it well," She said after a long while, "The laughter, the smiles. It is a good distraction."

"Yes, well." There was something in his voice that made her look up from where she had been observing the ground, "There is also a purpose to that, isn't there?."

"You mean the distance?" Lavellan responded knowingly, "In a way."

"Deshanna told me about the events of the rift, the creature known as Corypheus." Theron's voice was softer now, more serious, "Herald of Andraste."

"Yes." She sighed, nodded. The title weighed heavily even now, fit as poorly as it had from the first.

"Such things, titles, can be a burden." Theron's hand gently reached out to squeeze her shoulder in comfort, "I am sorry to find it upon your shoulders. Though if what your Keeper has told me is true, it seems Thedas found a capable leader to carry it."

Her smile was small, but grateful.

"You know. Considering I know nothing about you, would you mind..."

"Telling you my life story?" Theron smiled faintly, "It is a strange one, but it is mine to share. I should warn you though, it is a long one."

Lavellan gently squeezed the hand that had, just a moment before given her support, this time lending some of her own.

Smiling supportively she said, "Then it is good I have time to listen."

And that is how they spent the late morning to afternoon, the two of them slowly winding their trail around the wooded glens of Wycome. And though forested canopy slowly gave way to open field, the air around them remained perfumed not by flower, but by memory.

They began with their childhoods, the shared origin of Dalish life, the stories of the festivals and friends that wove themselves so vibrantly into the tapestry of their young lives. Then, with time came the tales of their adventures, the extraordinary circumstances that had stolen them away from their loved ones to do the things deemed almost impossible.

Heroes they had been called, but such a thing had rung false. For were heroes not brave, valiant and driven to make good choices, the right decisions?

They had failed, fallen, seen good people die. Their decisions had been questioned, their choices sometimes so terribly incorrect that even now it plagued them. The fear that despite the best of intentions they had broken systems beyond their comprehending, harmed peoples, remained even now.

For what could an elf know of dwarven poltics? And how should an elf know how to mend a political rift in a kingdom ages older than their own brief existence?

These concerns they shared, finding in the other a kindred spirit, a battered heart beneath the armor and artifice.

Herald of Andraste, they called her.

Hero of Ferelden, they called him.

But in that afternoon there was only Theron and Lavellan, strangers and yet startlingly not, for their experiences bound them more tightly than time would have imagined.

Later they spoke of darkness, of monsters, those of the Fade as well as the ones that wore the faces of men, of friends and lovers.

Theron was still, years later, plagued by visions of Tamlen's maligned form, his desperate pleas for mercy after being so twisted by the darkness .

"I could have saved him."

The note of self reproach in his voice made Lavellan's heart ache for him.

"At the time I did not know how, but I would have found a way. I did find a way eventually." There was no missing the tightness in his voice, the rigidity of his posture, "It is too late now but...time is not always kind, nor does it heal."

"You cannot forever hold yourself responsible for what you did." Lavellan protested.

"And yet, having knowledge now seems all the more frustrating." Theron pushed fingers through his blond hair, "If only one could travel through time. Change things."

"As someone who has had the distinct displeasure of traveling through time, I think it prudent to tell you that nothing is worth such things." Lavellan said, "It is not what you might expect, and..."

The vision of Solas' future self swam into her mind's eye, and she remembered the vacant way he had greeted her, the plainness with which he explained his slow demise at the hands of the red lyrium.

Better he was here and distant rather than lost to her forever.

"Better to savor what you have now." She whispered, "The horror of seeing alternate timelines runs deeper, darker than any nightmare."

"Because it is is real?" Theron asked.

"Yes, because for the people in that time, it is their reality."

Theron grew silent for a time, walked in quiet contemplation as he thought. Striding ahead of her, she watched the easy stretch of his limbs, the flex of elegant musculature and swing of his hair as he put distance between them.

She did not mind it, for the silence was a peaceful one, reflective.

And when at last he was ready to speak again he slowed, turned and waited for her to catch up.

"I thank you, for that. It may not be what I wanted to hear, but...thank you."

"You are welcome." She smiled and then felt her own expression lose some of it's glow as she confronted the topic they had studiously avoided since the beginning.

"There is something I need to tell you. A matter of..." Lavellan floundered then, wondering how to bring up such a thing to the man who was, for all intents, courting her.

"Your lover?" Theron supplied helpfully, giving her the look she was quickly recognizing as amused awareness.

Lavellan nodded, met his gaze squarely as she clarified. "He is my lover no longer. But he still is the father of my children."

The words did not seem to bother Theron in the slightest. It seemed Deshanna had been thorough in her explanation of her young charge, and not for the first time Lavellan found herself grateful for it.

"One's liaisons are always delicate things." Her companion said, "Especially when the heart is involved."

There was a flash of pain on his own face, and Lavellan realized then that she had been selfish in her concern. Theron was as much a man as she was a woman, it made sense that he might have his own private concerns.

It seemed despite their undeniable bond there were some things that did require a trust borne of time and familiarity. And in its own way, that too was a comfort.

"Might we save such a discussion for another day?" He asked.

Lavellan smiled, "I would appreciate that."

"Good." Theron nodded, tone lightening again as he gestured to where Wycome lay out before them, "Now then, shall we find something to eat? I've heard the most tantalizing rumor about frilly cakes."

Lavellan laughed as she shook her head, "It's _always_ about the frilly cakes."


	27. Surprise

AN: And we keep the story rolling! I think I can comfortably fit in one chapter a week so we'll see how it goes.

Thanks to everyone for their continued support!

Enjoy,

Voi

* * *

The sun's light teased the horizon in the stillness of predawn. Catching the swirling mist of fog that yet lingered between the velvety moss and green of the thick trees, it burst like fire across the still wet of the grass, the dew laden boughs of flowers.

Still, silent, the peace of the forest extended to the meadow where a herd to silver tailed deer grazed. Sleek bodies attuned to the world around them, their dappled coats covered lean muscle, succulent flesh.

The wolf watched them from the tree line, eyes sharp, observant. Larger than most of its kin, the midnight fur, the gleam of its eyes would have been better hidden in the evening. But instinct and hunger had driven it to this early morning hunt. Having to make do with the deep blue shadows of the hour, only the spectral fog stood in his favor .

His skill was such that he need not rely on luck for his kill, but there were other things to consider, things that would take time. Even now it was unclear whether he would be given such a luxury.

The easiest target was the young fawn that stood closest to the tree line. Fine boned and delicate, her large brown eyes had passed over his hiding place on more than one occasion. She would be fast, her small size and quick reflexes would save her the initial strike, but he had strength, stamina, and he could have her if he wanted.

But there were pups back at the den, and to provide the sort of meat they needed to grow would be do to more than catch some trifling young. He needed something more substantial, but not a mark that would impact the herd's ability to continued growth.

A hunter was nothing without a target to hunt, and their relationship was one that required constant care. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind when his eyes fell upon the one who would become his target.

There.

At the far end of the field, framed atop a lush knoll, stood an older buck. Nearing the end of his days, he was still healthy, but the wolf could tell easily enough that his time was waning. There was grey and white shot through his rich brown pelt, and though he was a strong, proud creature, there was a slowness to his movements that marked him, aged him.

The herd would not be put at disadvantage if he removed this male, not when there were other, younger, leaders to be found.

Maneuvering himself into position, stepping silently between the long grass, the wolf watched, waited. Slowing his breath, he eyed the herd as they slowly moved around their pasture, ebbing and flowing like a single living, breathing, entity.

And then, nearly an hour later, his moment came; and with a hunter's grace, a predator's instinct, he struck.

It was not a bloodless kill, but it was quick, merciful. The wolf did what had to be done to feed his young, but the _man_...

Solas stared around the empty field, felt the mist pass like fine gauze across his skin, and tried to remember how he had gotten there. Blood on his hand, his mouth, the thick liquid clung to his shirt, chilled with an unsettling slowness that illustrated just what had happened moments before.

And as he looked down at the body of the old buck he wondered why he felt unsettlingly like he was staring into a mirror, watching the scene from the outside like some distant stranger. But there was nothing to be done, to be changed, and so he did the only practical thing available. He began to carve up his kill.

Lavellan found him in the midst of processing the spoils of his hunt several hours later in what was the middle of the afternoon. Dressed in traditional dalish accoutrement, her expression lit in a smile, the sight of her jarred him with unmatched ferocity, but he was stubborn enough to pretend it did not.

It seemed he was not the only one however, for the expression on her face explained readily enough that she had found something surprising about him as well.

Blinking several times as she caught sight of the meat that lay about the fire, she looked at him for permission before walking though, examining the pieces cooking in various stages. Alternating between looking at him and the expertly butchered animal, she seemed at a loss for what to say .

The silence was not an uncomfortable one, but they watched each other with new eyes, their expressions mirrors of one another.

"You...hunted?" The hesitation in her voice seemed to only amplify her disbelief.

"You seem surprised." The lightness of his words masked an unsure man. But the light in his eyes, the warmth of his gaze upon her was real, "Is it truly that shocking?"

"I..." She floundered, "I don't know that I've ever seen you do this before."

"I did mention that I lived on my own for a time did I not? Alone...in the forest." He tilted his head to the side as he surveyed her confusion. He thought himself familiar to nearly all of her expressions, subtle and nuanced. He was not wrong.

"Ah, I see." Amusement threatened to curve his lips into a smile, "You thought me a scholar and...what? I subsisted on mushrooms and sunlight?"

The faint tinge of color on her cheeks was answer enough.

His lips quirked into a smile then, charmed all the more by the guilty look in her eyes.

"I don't know whether to be insulted or entertained by the image you carried of me." He shook his head, "Even now? The sight of this makes no sense to you?"

There was a flash of sharpness in his words. a demand that she recognize him for what he was. She had been so quick to accept, to take the knowledge and make it part of her reality. But did she understand what he had told her, what she had seen?

_Dread Wolf._

She swallowed slowly, "I suppose that does make sense. Yes, of course."

But just as there was understanding so too was there grief, and she looked away as the latter filled her eyes, deadening the light that had flickered there so briefly.

And this time the silence that stretched out between them was a heavy, uncomfortable thing. Falling over their lips and noses like an Orlesian curtain, weighted with gold and damask, it threatened to suffocate them the longer it remained.

"What brings you here?" Solas asked finally, dispelling the quiet with a question, a request rather than demand.

"You. The very nature you just spoke of." She turned to face him, and this time her expression bore the sharp lines for formality, "Has it caused you any discomfort? Any..." she frowned, "Any pain?"

Solas glanced at the cooking fire, "No pain, but I admit that I am not the same either."

"You're still having trouble sleeping, going to the Fade."

He looked at her appreciatively, admiring the insight she continued to have in such volume. Upon remembering the hideously dark nightmare, the flash of teeth and fur, however Solas sighed, exhaled slowly.

"Yes. It is because of nightmares...they are very much like when we found ourselves physically in the Fade. The dreams are sharper, stronger."

"Nightmares?" She frowned, considered his words, "Then it is good we speak now."

"I'll not share them with you," Cutting her off before she could press him, Solas shook his head, "Forgive me, Lavellan. But the things I have seen there as of late are not things I would share with anyone."

"I have walked beside you in the dark of the Fade, fought down corrupted magisters and you think I shall be offended by the images of your nightmares?"

She sounded affronted, and though Solas knew she had a right to be, he would not bend on this matter. No father wanted to see the death of his children, and he would spare her that particular pain until the nightmare swallowed him whole.

"It is not that I think you incapable of handling them," Solas protested, "It is that they are nightmares and therefore not worth describing when they are naught but memories...or illusions of the mind."

"The day I believe you truly capable of dismissing what you see in the Fade is the day I no longer truly know you." Her voice was sharp and she looked flushed with anger, but she did not lash out further.

"The contents of the nightmare are not important, at least not in respect to our mission." Solas responded honestly, "We are in search of a descendent of June, and there is no such clue in my dreams or nightmares."

_Even now you continue to keep your secrets._

He watched as she shut her lips against the words that were all but poised to spill out. And though he could only guess at the force of her feelings, he observed as she carefully folded her hands behind her back, took a deep breath to still the flame in her belly.

Restrained, controlled.

Distant.

Solas' chest hurt from the cold detached look in her eyes, but knew that, as before, it was a reaction of his own making.

"Very well then." She swallowed after a moment, pushing ever forward, "It is my turn for news then."

Solas inclined his head.

"I have been using the resources available to me...the voice of the Well." She gestured vaguely to her temple where there was a small scar, the physical manifestation of the damage that had been wrought upon her not long ago.

"June was a master craftsman," Lavellan said, "But he was also arrogant of his talent. He began to carve his sigil into his creations under the guise of decoration. Mythal's followers would often request items for their rituals, but ended up with items bearing his name. When they found out, the entirety of the collection was destroyed."

"Yes." Solas spoke quietly, as he nodded, "He did have a flair for vanity. But then, he was the youngest of us."

"Considering what was done to his crafts at the Temple of Mythal it may be difficult to find an example. The voices were not willing to share a description with me. But we must find an image of June's work, and then find one who yet carves in that style."

"I am familiar with the sigil." Solas said, "But given the time that has passed...it is unlikely to have remained unchanged in Dalish crafting. There has likely been variation, alteration over time."

"That is true," The elven woman conceded with a nod, "But there is something to be said of legacy and holding to traditions, even if they are incorrect."

She touched her face, the skin now devoid of mark, "The Dalish may not always understand, but we preserve what we can. Perhaps this sigil will be the same."

Her words were met with pensive silence, punctuated finally by her name, spoken tenderly but with all the weight of warning.

"Lavellan."

She turned, looked over her shoulder.

"This may all come to naught," He cautioned, "And if it does...if my nightmares get worse." He looked at her, _really_ looked at her and promised, "I'll not let any harm come to the children. I will leave before it comes to that."

HIs words were an echo of her own words not long ago. When she heard them the curve of her lips told him she recognize the similarity. And yet, the sparkle in her eye that was brighter, more optimistic than he might have expected.

Indeed, she seemed to look at him with such warmth that for a moment he wondered if perhaps he had missed some crucial detail, some reason behind such a look.

"What is on your mind?" He asked after a while, voice soft, almost shy.

"You." She responded as her lips curved upwards at the corners.

"Grim and fatalistic." She shook her head as she eyed him, "As if I expected you to be any different. It seems there is a limit to the amount you can surprise me after all..."

She chuckled, "Good."

And without another word she turned to go, leaving him to wonder if there would ever be a day when he did not feel the complete opposite of her. For not a day passed when she did not surprise him and even now the strength of it shook all he believed in.


	28. Ambush

AN: Hello all! Thanks so much for all your warmth and support on that last chapter! Glad to see we have some new readers and that I'm still keeping you loyal readers on your toes :)

Thanks again to everyone for taking the time to read my work - it's a pleasure to have such wonderful company on this adventure.

Best,  
Voi

* * *

They ambushed her just outside the town walls.

Well, _ambushed_ was perhaps a generous term, for the hunters that waited for her were not nearly as skilled as those that had shadowed her steps since she had become the Inquisitor. She had been aware of _these_ armed elves from the moment she had left the cover of the forest.

_"You!"_

There were no less than six of them, but as she turned to face them they did not seem as intimidating as they might have wished. It seemed fear was a relative thing, and even hunters as skilled as these were nothing in comparison to ancient elven gods. Still, she was a seasoned enough woman to know that foolishness was found in underestimating one's adversary. And so when they stepped closer she kept them all in view, making sure her stance remained loose, ready for anything.

"So you are the one they call Herald of Andraste."

The youngest of the group, a huntress, stepped forward and surveyed her with cold eyes. Spitting the title like a vile curse, the shorter, stockier woman, seemed all but primed for conflict. Given the strong distaste that some clans held for humans Lavellan could not fault their response, but her temper prickled at the judgemental way those six pairs of eyes roamed her unmarked face.

"Yes, I am Lavellan of Clan Lavellan."

"Traitor to our people is what you are." The woman snapped, "Taken by humans and sullying yourself by renouncing the marks of the People. You are no Dalish. You may claim no clan."

Her sentiment was not a unique one, but the manner in which she had phrased herself made Lavellan pause.

"Strange, I seem to have had a similar conversation with another elven man not so long ago. Would you be related at all?" Lavellan's eyes scanned the six and realized she should have seen the connection earlier, the similarities were unmistakeable.

"Ah, you're here about Dheron. I sent a message to the Inquisition, and now you have come."

"Our Keeper received a summons from the Keep and was told our First was to be a prisoner of the Inquisition for crimes he did not commit."

"The Inquisition told you they were imprisoning Dheron specifically for crimes he 'did not commit'?" The huntress' choice of words made Lavellan's brows raise in surprise, "How odd...I thought we only imprisoned people who had committed crimes."

Lavellan considered herself a fair and even tempered woman, but the arrogance of this woman brought out a sharp sarcasm that she knew Dorian would have appreciated.

"You mock me?" The dark haired huntress snarled.

"I question the validity of your remark considering you do not know who brought those charges before him." She replied firmly as she crossed her arms, "The Inquisition would not have summoned you without cause."

"There is no cause because this summons is nothing more than a ploy by a traitorious _bitch_ to bend unwilling clans to her demands!"

"Syrus, that is enough."

It was the tall figure in the back that spoke. Broad shouldered, with dark eyes and even darker hair, his angular face was somber as he surveyed the two women. His sheer size meant that it had been impossible to miss him, but Lavellan had not expected the low, tranquil quality of his voice.

Taking note of the way all in the party deferred to his calm but commanding tone, she felt a small measure of tension ease.

"I had wondered when you might speak up." She called out to him, "You are Dheron's older brother, are you not? You look quite a bit like him."

His lips quirked into a frown, "You know me?"

"Yes of course." Lavellan almost smiled, "How else do you imagine you were not struck down the moment you entered Inquisition territory?"

He nodded, accepting the truth of her words, before returning to the crux of their discussion, the point of so much contention. Speaking quickly but clearly, he repeated the accusation but with more consideration for diplomacy rather than hatred.

"You are being accused of harming a member of the clan, my brother."

Lavellan nodded, "That is an accusation I understand. But it is an incorrect one."

Her words made all who heard frown in confusion. And though she wished to, she could not fully explain herself without putting Solas in danger as well. Truth was often a luxury not enjoyed by the one called Inquisitor. Trying to elaborate without disclosing the exact details of what had transpired Lavellan said, "All that befell him was the result of his own decision."

"He does not even recognize his own kin anymore." The dark haired man protested, but his tone remained considered, neutral. "And you say it is of his own doing?"

"Yes." Lavellan felt sympathy for Dheron's brother, but kept the expression from her face. "He chose an unwise path and through the consequences were severe, terrible even, they are of his own making. I could explain more if-"

"Liar!"

The shriek split the air a second before the huntress, Syrus, broke rank. And though there was no flash of a blade, nor notched arrow, Lavellan felt her instincts prickle all the same. The other woman was not truly a credible danger, not when Lavellan had the power of the mark at her disposal but that did not mean she should casually dismiss the woman either.

Not all dangers came from what was immediately before one's face, and when she saw the shadowy figure emerge from the tree line she knew she could use this moment to teach her guests that very important lesson.

It was this knowledge that made a Lavellan's lips curve into a cold smile, one the matched the stark light in her eye. Looking to where Dheron's older brother stood, Lavellan did not even bother to defend herself from the woman that was advancing on her.

"I told you that you are here on my invitation." She reminded him, "And though you might not like it, you are also under my protection."

_"Syrus."_

It was impossible to miss the warning in his voice, but when he called to his huntress his words fell on deaf ears. And though Lavellan did not seem outwardly concerned, the elven man seemed to sense the danger that was building with each moment.

_All the damage...all consequences were entirely of his own making entirely._

Lavellan's words echoed through the silence like a memory made flesh.

"Syrus!" This time his voice was sharp, like a crack of whip, "Stand down!"

But for a woman so easily wound up, his repetition of the order, his concern, was beyond her. And instead the dark haired woman grew all the more agitated, as if hearing him heed Lavellan's warning mad it all the more maddening.

"_Your_ protection?!" Syrus bellowed as she crossed those final few feet, "We don't need your help!"

It would have been impossible to get away now, to avoid the slash that the other woman intended for her to feel. But no sooner had Syrus swiped forward, knife expertly angled for Lavellan's tender throat ,when an explosion of winter cold and ice claimed her hand until the elbow, turning it into a leaden weight the dropped her instantly to her knees.

And though she had expected it, had anticipated it even, Lavellan's surprise matched those of the hunters until it slowly faded to a sort of quiet approval. The feeling only increased, warming when the remaining hunters straightened to face the figure that strode from the forest to meet them.

The stunned silence that greeted his arrival was broken only by his easy, almost conversational greeting.

"Is this what the Dalish call a fair trial?"

Light and unworried, he drew into the small circle with nary a flourish, completely disinterested in the woman who writhed on the ground in pain.

"Hello, Solas." Serene as she greeted him, Lavellan felt her features soften, ease as the tension drained out of her.

"Nice of you to join us." She said.

"Of course." He nodded, making a show of settling at her side, his own blue eyes scanning the line of hunters, "I apologize for the interruption of course. Please continue."

"H-how dare you?!" Syrus's voice was tight with pain when she finally managed to speak. And though her hand was still firmly entombed in ice, her temper remained hot as flame, "Damn flat-ear."

Dheron's brother barked her name, but earned little more than a dirty look for his efforts.

"Truly? We are stooping to insults?" One of Solas' brows quirked in what might have been amusement, "A shame that you could not be a credit to your people."

And when he words looked to have riled her even further he smiled, "Well, it seems that I remember my manners, little huntress. Perhaps it is best I remind you how to use yours."

His hand flexed a second later, and without the aid of even a staff or scepter to focus his magic, the ice began a slow march upwards towards her neck.

"You may request an end to this at any time." He said before turning his displeased frown to the half-circle of warriors that continued to watch the scene before them.

"And is this how you honor your clan? Surround a single elven woman and demand your way?"

His accusation was met with an uncomfortable shuffling of feet, the guilty looks that said well enough they knew this meeting of forces had not been meant to be fair. Still, there were others that refused to be cowed, and when one of them spoke up, Solas faced them with the sort of icy patience that reminded Lavellan of his conversations with Vivienne.

"One against six. No, it was not meant to be fair."

One of the hunters, a tall lanky man with scar across his brow pointed out, "But if the rumors were true then it would take more than just us six to subdue her. She is called the 'Herald of Andraste' for a reason, is she not?"

"That does not make your actions any less shameful." Solas asserted, looking pointedly at Dheron's brother, "You do your lineage a disservice with your actions. _You_ most of all, Ehrin Ehnuven. Do not think it has been so long that I do not remember you."

Solas' easy identification of Dheron's brother made Lavellan straighten in surprise, but she could hardly question him here. Turning to see Ehrin's head bow in shame, she was met with a chorus of apologies.

"What about me?" Huffing mightily, Syrus called attention to where the ice had very nearly covered the crest of her shoulder.

At Solas' blank, uncomprehending look, she squirmed, looking as if she was caught between her pride and fainting at the agonizing pain of the ice.

"I will lose my hand if you do not stop it!"

"You make that sound as if this is something I should be concerned about." Solas raised a brow but did nothing, "Why should I care what happens? I am but a flat-ear. What do I know of Dalish hunting customs?"

Syrus took several sharp breaths, but could not find the strength to speak at the ice crackled and inched higher still.

"Please, hahren."

And this time it was Ehrin who spoke, his voice pleading in a way that Lavellan had not heard before.

"Your manners do you credit, Ehrin, but it was not your error that placed her in such a position." Solas frowned.

"She is..." The taller man suddenly shifted, looking at once both protective but apologetic, "Syrus is newly bonded to me, she does this out of love for me. Please forgive her."

"And what would you have done had she hurt the Inquisitor?" Solas asked just as softly, "What if she had killed her?"

The other man looked suddenly stricken.

"Shall I tell you what _I_ would have done?" Solas continued, his voice nearly a whisper and yet so dangerous in its quiet that no one dared miss a single word, "To you? To the entirety of your clan?"

His lips curled into a small smile, but the words were there in the predatory glimmer of eyes. And it did not matter that his form was that of a man, for in that moment he seemed every inch the wolf he had been born.

_I would have torn you all apart. And not even the history books would remember you.  
_

Lavellan could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as the words wafted through her mind like a spring haze, a gauzy mist. And though he did not look at her, had not leveled her with the sharpness of his gaze, she could feel the heat of his anger.

"P-please."

In the end, it was Syrus who undid the tension she had wrought. Her voice, a shredded agonized thing, cut through the quiet to beg forgiveness.

"I am sorry. Creators forgive my rudeness."

"I do not believe in your creators." Solas said coldly, unwilling to give her any quarter after what she had done, "Just as I do not understand your customs. Does that warrant such anger from you?"

"No." The huntress shook her head, tried to inhale, but her throat caught on a sob, "No, of course not. I am so sorry."

"I do not think you worthy of forgiveness," Solas said, "Mistakes are one thing, but mindless hatred is inexcusable. Pride is another."

And this time it was not just to the huntress that he was speaking, but perhaps to himself as well.

"I-I know." Broken now, Syrus began to cry, "I apologize. Please, stop the ice. I cannot feel my arm."

"Nor will you again if I have my way." Solas said, "Maiming you might be the kindest thing I can do."

And though part of her agreed, Lavellan's hand found its way to Solas' back, pressing softly against the strength she found there, the tension. They had brushed against one another countless times since their reunion in the temple, but this was unlike any of those previous times.

She felt him absorb the deliberate touch and paused, waited for him to understand her intent.

A moment later the ice fell away from Syrus' arm leaving it notably blue but not permanently maligned. It would take her several days for functionality to return, but she was still whole. Ehrin was at her side in an instant, his arms around her shoulders as he gently drew her against him, upwards until she was on her feet.

And despite the tears on her cheeks there was relief not anger on Syrus' face.

"Let this be a reminder." Lavellan spoke, "We are not merciless, but Dheron earned his consequences, of that there is no doubt."

Ehrin turned his gaze to where Lavellan stood, "Despite our actions here, we are not a clan without honor. If you can find it in yourself to forgive this transgression, we would beg a council with you to discuss what happened."

"I would grant you such a council." Lavellan agreed, "You deserve to know what happened, but we will do this as protocol demands. Is this an acceptable arrangement?"

Ehrin nodded, his sharp face serious but sincere, "Thank you, Herald. We will look forward to your summons."

And without further word, the taller man nodded towards Solas before taking both his bond mate and rest of the hunters away from the clearing, winding down the hill towards Wycome.

Lavellan waited until the last of clan Ehnuven had disappeared into the city before turning to face the man that still waited beside her.

Eyes searching, she asked, "You knew them?"

"Clan Ehnuven is an old one. Perhaps one of the oldest that persist from...my time. They were one of the first I sought out when I woke. Ehrin was head of the clan, and despite my other dealings with the Dalish, he proved to be a moderate."

Lavellan did not understand what it meant when Solas said 'woke' but it was not hard to see the connection. She had not recognized the name before, but Dheron had regularly mentioned his clan in connection with the ancient trinket he had used against her.

"You were looking for the amulet?"

"Yes. They had been stewards of Dirthamen once, it seemed appropriate."

"I see." She said, and she did, "But they did not have it?"

"No, Dheron had already left the clan with it...stolen it, actually. I had been looking for him when we met. As you can imagine, the tear in the sky seemed a bigger issue."

Lavellan smiled, "I can appreciate the detour you took in your initial quest. We could not have defeated Corypheus without you."

"Yes, well." Solas trailed off, "The tear in the veil was the product of my own folly as well, so it seemed prudent I fix what I could."

"Of course."

Nodding, she made as if to move away only to be stopped by the touch of his hand on her arm. Warm, the elegant fold of his fingers was gentle upon her skin, but the texture of it rough as she remembered.

"Yes?" Despite her earlier confidence, her own touch to his back, the feel of him so near made the emotion quake in her gut.

He watched at her for a long moment, expression serious as his lips held firm in a line. Waiting until her eyes rose to meet his own, he pinned her with a look before he began.

"If I had not been there, at the edge of the forest..." He began.

"You were." She said, as if he had nothing to fear, nothing he need worry about.

"But if I had not acted fast enough, quickly enough." He pressed with words though he kept his grip on her loose, easily broken, "You could not have known I was there."

She shrugged, "There is a subtle act to bluffing that usually requires some level of risk."

"You are a _mother _to a trio of young sons." He protested.

"And yet so too am I the Herald of Andraste." She smiled thinly, "It is a strange thing to balance the two. As I'm sure you are finding."

"I..." Solas hesitated, before nodding in grudging agreement, "Yes, it is."

"Besides," she mustered the energy for a smile and fixed the expression to her lips, "I have no doubt in your ability."

Her words seemed to trouble him rather than ease the worry. And when his brows twisted into an expression of pain, Lavellan stepped closer rather than further away.

"Solas, what is going on?"

"What if _I_ doubt?" Solas asked, "What if everything I have been working for comes to nothing because of everything I was before."

"What do you mean?" Lavellan asked, not understanding.

"After our conversation by the fire, I had intended to...apologize for what I said. Not just for what I said back then, but for before as well." He glanced over her shoulder, to where the trees stood, as if sheltering the secrets he kept within their woody bodies.

"It was why I was there at the treeline when you needed me."

Lavellan watched as his hand reached up to touch the cord that rested against his neck, that kept that knot so close, and felt her throat tighten in response.

"I do not know how much more you want to know, or are willing to hear." He confessed, "But if you can spare an evening, I will tell you about the beginning of my story."

His offer seemed to suck the air from around them, leaving them in a void of sound as Lavellan struggled to understand what he was saying.

"What?" Floundering, Lavellan looked up at him, "I don't-"

Strange, but his offer to explain everything seemed to fill her with dread rather than the soaring happiness she always imagined she would feel.

"What has happened?" She demanded, "Why change your mind now? Moments ago you refused to tell me, so _why?_"

Solas sighed, as if a weight had settled over him in that moment. "You thought me grim and fatalistic, but I was not lying when I spoke of leaving. I fear it may come sooner rather than later."

"You don't know that!" Lavellan whispered fiercely as if the strain had pulled her voice taut like a string, "You could stay for weeks, maybe even months or..."

Solas smiled sadly, "Or I could be gone in the morning, and never have had a chance to say goodbye."


	29. Letters

AN: Slow and steady wins the race. This was supposed to be one super long chapter but I split it because it really deals with two distinct but important facets of our story. I like keeping things clean so here's the first. Next chapter to include the second plot point.

Thanks again to all those that shared their thoughts about the last chapter and to everyone who has since given this fic a read. You know I could not be doing this without you :)

All the best!

~Voi

* * *

She had been staring at the letter for hours. Eyes burning from exhaustion, she pressed her fingertips to drooping eyelids as she attempted to fight off the sleep that beckoned with velvet seductiveness.

The hour was late, but given everything that had happened over the course of her day, it was the first moment of proper silence she had been able to enjoy as well. Time to think, to make decisions carefully rather than just react to events as they happened. Despite her physical exhaustion, there was something nagging in the back of her mind that refused to let her settle, and she planned to solve it as soon as it ceased its near incoherent panic.

Getting to her feet in an attempt to shake off the coiling unease, Lavellan plucked the sheaves of paper, her letters, from her desk and took them to where the fireplace was still burning bright. Once, twice, she skimmed the slanted writing without comprehending, too tired to make sense of the words she had penned with such deliberate focus just hours before.

If Lavellan was being honest with herself she knew the cause of her sleeplessness, and the inky specter of her unease was not going to be found in the words she had written. Rather the source of such emotion was there in her pocket, the same place it had been since she had pulled it from his pocket not long before.

Her lips twitched into a frown as she looked down to where the telltale fringe of strings peaked out from the top opening. A lump in her pocket, a small curve of little note; it had gone unnoticed by all those she had interacted with that day, unseen. But she knew it was there, she could see it, and the sight made the knot in her throat all the harder to swallow.

Fingertips brushing the edge of the pocket opening, she hesitated for a moment before delving inside, feel the familiar twist, the texture of silk and grass and wood all tangled together in a different sort of knot.

It glinted in the firelight when she finally mustered the strength to draw it, like starlight on her fingertips.

_Solas._

There was no separating the meaning of this token with the man, but she still had little idea of how to proceed. Did she undo the tangles and leave the loose bits for someone else to use, or was it worth rebraiding? Perhaps she might split the strings in thirds and create small versions for her sons.

"It was meant for you. The heart that lives outside your chest, the one that resonates with the song of your spirit. It will not beat for us the same way."

She looked over her shoulder to where her eldest was standing, pale hands laced tightly in front of him. He might not have needed sleep the way other human boys did, but he had enjoyed the peace well enough to try laying down and closing his eyes several times a week.

"Cole?"

It was unusual that he would be up and about at this hour. And yet, she was not as surprised when from behind him peeked her twins, fiery hair blazing despite the dimness of the room. Cole was a tender-hearted boy, there was little he would not do for his younger brothers.

She crossed the room to them in an instant, setting aside her work to give them her full attention, "What has happened? Another nightmare?"

Lavellan had tried to speak to the twins before they had gone to bed but had been met with the same stubborn attitudes as before. They were very much like _her_ in that respect, and so she knew that only time and trust would loosen their lips.

"What are you doing?" Era'fen asked, rebuffing her question with one of his own, "Writing letters?"

"I..." Lavellan lowered herself to her knees when Cole settled on the ground, the boys tucked on either one of his sides. "Yes, I've been writing letters."

"Are you going away again?" Numinehn asked, eyes growing large, drawing closer to his older brothers as if to take comfort from their nearness, "Will you have to go soon?"

"You always leave after you send letter with that seal on them." Era'fen pointed to the wax seal, "Inquisition business."

"I am writing a letter about Inquisition business." She admitted after a short silence, watching as misery settled upon each boy in turn. A whimper from Numinehn, a sad sigh from Cole, a sudden stoic frown from Era'fen; each reaction was unique but grew from a shared root of unhappiness.

Lavellan felt her throat close as guilt looped itself around her and pull tight, like a rope meant to strangle. Her sons were so young, but already they knew the implications of such a letter. Smart, sharp, they had drawn the connections enough times to see that such missives were never just folded bits of paper, but a symbol, that meant they would have to prepare for their impending loss. Lavellan felt emotion sting her eyes at the thought, and coughed roughly to unseat the guilt that had settled there. .

Never again would she allow her children to feel like that.

_Never. Again._

Her hands reached out to touch trembling lips and soft cheeks, tuck hair behind ears both pointed and round. Small comforts followed by a quiet admission, a promise to remain. Lavellan might have smiled had the three of them not looked so somber when she told them.

"I am writing to the Inquisition because I _do not_ want to go away anymore, to travel. My letter is to tell them that I am staying _here_, in Wycome, with all of you."

After years of carrying such a weight, the relief she felt when speaking those words almost made her feel lightheaded. Lavellan had never shunned nor shirked her duty, but it had not been a role she had chosen for herself. Now she had decided it was time enough to do as she wanted, to properly balance her responsibilities with the wishes of her heart.

"Truth, brighter, bigger than the fire that warms us. A choice for yourself as well as for us, happiness in this small home." Cole's expression eased into a smile, "You mean for us to be a family here, to grow up together."

Lavellan nodded as her eyes filled, tears but ones of happiness.

"Yes. I've wanted that for a very long time."

"You'll stop being the Inquisitor?" Era'fen asked slowly, walking up to her until he could grip on of his small hands around her larger one, "You'll stay here and be _Mamae_ forever?"

"I have always been your Mamae despite the distance," She said tenderly, "But yes, I want to be here for you, so I'm stepping down as Inquisitor."

"What about Uncle Dorian? Or Uncle Varric?" Numenhn chirped, looking suddenly worried, "Will they come to visit?"

"Oh I think they like you all enough to visit even without me ordering them places." Lavellan smiled, "Besides, just because I'm no longer the Inquisitor does not mean we will stop helping."

"No?" Numinehn asked, cocking his head to the side as if he were confused, "How?"

"You do not need to have a fancy title or have special abilities to help or make a difference." She said, "Sometimes all you need is to be brave."

"Being brave is difficult." Cole said after a while, "But friends help too. And we many friends, of all kinds."

Lavellan smiled, "Yes, we have been very lucky in that respect."

"Can any of them help with _that_?" Numinehn asked after a moment, large blue eyes now focused on the bit of string held in his mother's hand.

"This?" Lavellan tried to smile, to keep her tone light, but the hand seemed to jerk open instead of smoothly unfurl to reveal the knotted mess.

"It is your necklace." Era'fen breathed suddenly twisting around so that he could press his face towards it, "Like in the dream."

"The dream?" Lavellan repeated slowly, "Is this the one you will not tell me about?"

"Yes." Numinehn sighed, looking sad, "It is not a good dream. It is too dark and the knot always stays tangled."

"This knot?" Their mother said gently, gesturing to her necklace, 'You see this in your dreams?"

Had their father not been such an accomplished Dreamer Lavellan might have simply accepted their nightmare for a stroke of bad luck, a bit of Fade come too close. But remembering Solas' earlier comments about his own experience made her all the more certain that these two events were somehow connected if not necessarily related.

"Would it help if I gave you the necklace?" She asked gently, "Or is it better if I keep it?"

"Will you untangle it for us?" Era'fen murmured after a long moment.

"Yes, will you please help?" Numinehn echoed, brows rising and bending into little arches as he pleaded.

"Me?" She glanced at the three sets of eyes on her, "I suppose so. But I am quite busy right now, so it may take me some time. Is that going to be alright?"

"Oh yes." Numinehn looked suddenly relived.

"But then, what should I do when I have it untangled?" Lavellan pressed, "Do you want all the loose bits of string or just the remains of the necklace?"

"If you give all the pieces to us, we will make it better." Cole said when the twins fell silent, expressions identical masks of hesitation, "Winding, weaving, we will find a way to wrap it up. That is...if you will let us?"

His own expression quickly fell into one that matched his younger siblings, and faced with the power of those three earnest faces Lavellan found she was powerless to turn them away.

"Very well." She said with a small sigh and an exasperated chuckle, "I will undo what damage I can and then give you three the pieces. But that is not something we will start at _this_ hour. It is late, so get yourselves to bed."

And then, kissing them each upon their brow she rose to see them off, watching them head down the hall with a smile upon her face. But the moment they had faded from view her earlier concern surfaced and Lavellan was once more faced with the words that hounded her tired mind, _his_ words from that afternoon.

_I could be gone in the morning, and never have had a chance to say goodbye._

The memory remained as sharp as ever, and she could still see the grief in his eyes, hear the honest tremor in his voice. And thought it was a dramatic turn of phrase, she wondered, not for the first time, if she had underestimated his sense of timing.

"One problem solved but another remains. Questions and answer all tangled together, worse than any necklace. He promised you answers but now you're not sure you want them."

Cole's arms wrapped around her waist as he buried his face in her shoulder, holding on to her as if he feared she might disappear despite _her_ earlier promise.

"Cole?"

Her arms wrapped around him, comforting him as he trembled with the force of his empathy. She had thought he had returned to his bed, but it seemed that even now he was attuned to the hearts that needed him most.

"He wants to help, but it feels like he just makes things hurt more. Worried, weary, you're wondering if he really meant that tonight was his last night."

She swallowed the small sob that threatened and nodded instead.

"_Yes_."

She ached with the admission of her thoughts, feeling his name on her lips though she had not the strength to give it life. Her confusion remained, and even now she found her stranded between action and inaction. He had finally offered a glimpse into his past, into who he was, who he _had been. _She realized now, with no small amount of chagrin, that his words terrified her. In the face of such an offer, what could she have said?

She knew they needed to speak. But if it was as he had said, she wondered just how many more secrets he had lurking behind his serene façade. Her doubt had rendered her mute, and when he had nodded in silent understanding, leaving her to stand in that field she wondered if that silence had counted for cowardice as well.

It felt like it.

Her eldest son looked up at her with a small frown upon his lips, "Why do you not visit him now?"

"It is late, Cole." She protested, brushing his mop of pale hair with patient fingers. It had been a while since he had let her cut it she mused, now it was nearly long enough to tie into a short, stubby ponytail.

"You are using me as a distraction," Her son said after a moment, gently taking her hands and giving them a gentle squeeze, "Because you are unsure?"

"Yes." Lavellan smiled but it was a small, sad little thing, "I am unsure of what action to take, whether I should seek answers when I do not know yet which questions to ask. "

"Besides," she said with patient practicality, "If he is sleeping then it would be rude to wake him...and if he is gone..."

She swallowed past the uncomfortable twist in her gut, in her chest, "If he is gone then my appearance at the cottage tonight will not change things."

"But what if he is right outside the door? Wondering if you might let him in?" Cole responded, ghostly smile upon his lips, "What if he too is just as worried, and needs you to open the door?"

His words were so unexpected that Lavellan could not hide her surprise, nor muster a response when Cole's expression morphed into one of impish delight. He disappeared a moment later, fading into the darkness with easy grace.

And no sooner had he faded when there came a light, whisper soft, knock on the door.

_Be brave, mother. _

Cole's words echoed encouragingly in the firelight.

And so she would try to be.


	30. Story

AN: Ok, so this is very much a framing chapter, but I did not want to lose it despite the (relative) lack of action. Because it's so short I'm going to try and get you all another chapter this week to make up for it :)

Chapter 31 happens to be my favorite but it would not be possible without this chapter (you'll see why shortly).

Thanks again for all the support - it's great to have so many great companions for this adventure!

I hope you enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

She had the door open before she could think too much about it. Cold metal a contrast to the warmth of her hand, she shivered beneath her shawl when a sharp gust of wind sliced into the heat of her home and found her unequipped for the frigid weather. But she cracked the door wider still and with it she let in not just the breeze, but the silver of the moon, and the shadow of a familiar man.

Heart in her throat, Lavellan looked and found the scene just as Cole had described.

Pale and drawn, his expression was half hidden beneath the thick fur of his borrowed cloak, but the look suited him as did the quilted tunic she could see buttoned at the neck. He looked prepared for a brisk evening, or perhaps the beginnings of a mountainous journey. She could not say which might have been his original purpose, but he was here now, at her door. Indeed, he must have been standing there for quite some time, because the breath that whispered past his lips was no longer warm enough to produce even the smallest cloud of moisture in the chilled air.

"Solas?"

He had been staring at the moon, but when she called to him, he turned easily enough, movements as smooth and languid as a dancer. As if he had all the time in the world and each night here at her doorstep was just another in a long fluid experience together. As if his continued presence in her life was not a surprise, a lucky twist of circumstance.

"You are awake?" His concern and relief seem to mingle as he scanned her face, "I had knocked on a whim, I apologize if it woke you from slumber."

She shook her head, clutching her cover tighter when another icy blast wormed its way through her layers to illicit gooseflesh and a tight-lipped shiver. Eyes narrowing at her reaction, Solas stepped into the house not a second later, hands reaching out to take the door from her and smoothly swing it shut.

Warmth returned, and with it a slow, almost imperceptible sigh of appreciation from them both. But by the time his gaze had returned to her his brow had knitted once more.

"What are you doing up at such an hour?" He asked, frowning, scanning her tired eyes and mused hair.

"Would you believe me if I said writing letters?" Her small grin flickered like the fire in the hearth, warm but brief.

"Knowing you? Yes." Solas tilted his head as he surveyed the room, "But I suspect that was not all you were doing."

"No," Lavellan sighed, smile falling from her lips on the exhale, "Of course not."

When he remained silent, she finally admitted the truth.

"I was worrying." She said, voice so low he had to strain to hear her over the crackle of wood and fire, "Your words back at the clearing - I cannot seem to forget them."

"I see."

His expression was somber, serious, and when he met her eyes once more there was no missing the sorrow. But when he made to open his mouth, to apologize, she stopped him with the small shift of expression, a glance that rendered him mute. Gesturing to the pair of low seats that sat by the fire, she waited until they had both settled in their respective places before speaking again.

"If I am to finally get answers from you then I believe it worth the worry." She said with the same sort of easy practicality that he had come to expect, "Better I know then not."

"You did not seem so very keen to hear my story this afternoon. Are you sure you wish to speak of it now?"

He waited, watched as she slowly eased her shawl from her shoulders and readied herself. Yes, whether she said so or not, her actions spoke clearly enough. She would have her answers.

"I did not know what to feel." Lavellan admitted after a long silence, "But in the end it seemed you meant to leave regardless."

"And that distresses you?" Solas asked distantly, tugging at the top most button of his tunic, easing the knotted tie of his cloak.

"I do not know how many other ways I can say it for you to believe." She exhaled shortly, leveling him with a look. "Your relationship with the children is but a fledgling. Should they lose the chance to know you, it would be..."

Lavellan looked down at her lap, touching the little tasseled corner of her wrap with a fingertip.

"It is not right for a parent to be a stranger to their children." She said softly, shaking her head, "It is like a heartache from which there is little respite."

He looked at her for a long moment, examining the nuance of her expression, the subtle lines of her lips and brow.

"Regardless of how I may feel." Lavellan said, ignoring his initial question, "If something should happen to you, it is best that I know all I can. You promised to let me help if I could."

"Knowing my past does not mean you will be able to influence the future." Solas warned, watching as her eyes slowly rose to meet his once more.

"And yet I wonder if you haven't already decided my future for me yet again." Lavellan looked up as a sad smile pasted itself upon her lips, "Goodness knows you've tried once before."

Despite her reserve, the thick lashes that framed her eyes looked almost moist. Whether it was a play of firelight or tears was impossible to say, and yet Solas knew that it was often these details that gave away her true thoughts.

Solas fell silent, contemplating the look until he found the right words to continue.

"This story...my story, will not be a good one, Lavellan." he admitted after a time, voice tight, almost rough as shame rose to color the words. "I was a different man in my youth. And not necessarily a better one."

"I do not need it to be a good story, Solas."

Her response was tranquil, almost serene. And though he said nothing she thought that perhaps a smile touched the corners of his mouth.

"No, I suppose you do not." There was something almost like admiration in his voice, "You have always been a practical woman."

She nodded faintly but returned her attention to the fire a moment later, seemingly captivated by the flicker of flame and ember. By the time she looked back he was slowly shedding the outer layers of his cloak to reveal the tunic beneath.

"What is it you do want, Lavellan?" He said gently, watching her features as they danced between gold and shadow.

"I want the truth" She said. Raising her eyes to meet him squarely, Solas watched the iron will solidify behind that familiar gaze.

"I need the truth."

"Then that is what I will give you."


	31. Origin

AN: Thanks so much for your patience my lovelies! As promised here is that start of the Solas' story. I had intended it for it to be just one a chapter but it looks like our much beloved egg has more than I can include in one go. It seems this is just the beginning! Let me know what you think - and I hope you enjoy!

Best,

Voi

* * *

Solas had thought that the memories of his past would be hard to dredge up, difficult to remember and even worse to recount. Indeed, there was no denying the shame that lingered, threatening to smother him with the weight of age. But the clear-eyed look she gave him, the lack of judgment in Lavellan's expression, gave him the space he needed to compose himself and begin. Once he started he found that the words flowed from his lips like water. Whatever reservations he had, any hesitation, disappeared between one breath and the next, until they too were spun up and replaced with the memory itself.

A sunny afternoon, a forest rich and vibrant, the leaves all variation of green and brown. The cacophony of emerald, the sound of birds and the rustle of the wind through the trees, all of it together had been like a painting of living things. His childhood, distilled in a single hour.

"Solas! Come back this instant!"

Shouting, hers. Laughter, his. He tore into the clearing with bright eyes and lips curved into a smile. Heedless of her calls, he filled his lungs with the scent of the land and reveled in the feel of it stuck to his bare feet. It had rained the night before and the world still glittered with it.

"Solas!"

Young and eager, he dove towards a particularly large puddle as he sought to evade the grasping hands that sought him.

_Mamae._

The memory brought joy and pain in equal measure.

He had forever been causing trouble for her, and the villagers long since gotten used to the sound of her shouting, voice carrying through the square like a horn. Despite her diminutive size, Elagara was a strong woman, one who had no trouble chasing after the son many believed half-wild.

"Solas! You must come with me to the city! You promised you would behave."

They lived in a small village, far away from the densely populated centers in Arlathan and other cities of Elvhenen. This isolation meant that their glimpses of the ruling aristocracy were brief at best. But where others might have found the prospect of visiting these cities, these bastions of civilization, a tantalizing treat, Solas had less than little interest.

Rather he abhorred the idea for everything it represented. The elves that lived there were cruel, controlling and cared nothing for those they ruled over. He had seen it with his own eyes and it had left its mark on him.

There had been a man who had visited them once, from the city. Solas had been scarcely old enough to remember such things, but this memory was not one he would forget. Tall, forbidding, the stranger had not stayed with them for longer than a single lunar rotation, but Solas could still envision him clearly. Tan skin stretched over a muscled physique, dark hair woven away from eyes the color of rainstorms, his stern, sharp face had been a contrast to his mother's gentler expressions. A warrior, a hunter, he had been the opposite of Elagara in every way.

And perhaps that also meant he was cruel where Solas knew his mother to be sweet. He had stumbled upon them once, engaging in something his young mind had not understood save that it sounded like his mother was in pain. He had never heard his mother in distress before, but there had been no mistaking the noise coming from his mother's bedroom.

Small though he was, Solas had tried to help. Entering the bedroom he had battered at the man's leg with child-sized fists but had been unable to do anything to stop it. Instead, the stranger had risen from the bed with a snarl, and pushed him out, slamming the door with such ferocity that Solas remained where he was for a long time afterwards, shivering.

His mother's cries haunted him for days afterwards. But it had been the man's face that remained with him for far longer. Never would Solas forget the anger that had etched itself so deeply in the man's unmarked face. The smooth untouched skin of his brow, cheeks and chin lacked the delicate whorls that were painted upon his mother's fine face, and Solas knew that that meant something important.

When pressed on the subject some years later, his mother had said simply that it was a misunderstanding. But Solas had understood well enough to figure it out on his own and the knowledge had left him angry, guilty that he had not been able to prevent it the first time. It seemed that cruelty was found in those that bore no marks upon their faces.

It was for this reason that Solas continued to evade his mother's reach, stubbornly ignoring her calls for him to stop. If the cities were filled with elves like that stranger thenSolas saw no reason to seek them out, not when they were worse than the wild dangers of the forest.

But the beasts of the woods were not to be trifled with either, and on that specific afternoon, in that muddy clearing, one particular monster found Solas and his mother.

Fur dark as night, with red eyes that gleamed like garnets, it was hard to say how it had snuck up on them so silently, but somehow it had. A hulking beast, it stunk of death and decay, and fresh blood glinted on its teeth, wet its muzzle. Surely it was a monster from the Fade, Solas had thought when his eyes first settled upon it. It was impossible to fathom that the land have given birth to it, it seemed a creature of nightmares.

The longer he watched it the larger it seemed to grow, and though it looked vaguely like a wolf, Solas dared not reduce its menace by making such silly comparisons. Head craning back to take in the full breadth of its figure, Solas stiffened with a gasp of fear when his mother's hand finally found him, surprised him.

"Solas."

Elagara was no fighter, but the calm of her voice, the steely command she found in that moment made her son look at her, made him listen. Wild though he was, the peace she found for them both in that moment was a gift. A smile, a gentle squeeze before she gestured towards the village with its walls and sentinels.

Safety.

Home.

"Get yourself to the guard, to the gate." She instructed on a whisper.

"What about you?" He asked, glancing furtively to where the creature had begun to pace.

"I will be right behind you." She promised, "But once you start running, you must promise not to stop. Can you do that for me, Solas?"

He nodded, though he was nearly white with terror, "Yes, mamae."

She smiled then, and the glow of it was as bright as her namesake.

"Ar lath da'vhenan," Elagara whispered to her son, "Run, now!"

And for the first time in a long time, he did as she asked.

All his wildness was channeled to a purpose, and the speed, the strength of his body became a means to run, to flee the clearing. Behind him, the howl of the creature cut the tense silence, and with the snarls and snaps echoing in his ear Solas continued to run.

He did as he was told, _for once he did as asked_, and he found himself at the village some time later. But when he turned to her, to his mother, he found nothing but air.

Gone. Missing.

The loss was startling, and Solas stood there in uncomprehending silence while his mind reeled, struggling to understand what had been, just hours earlier, a spirited morning of laughter with his parent. He waited for hours at that gate, worked with the guards to watch for her all through the night, but she never appeared. And when the sun rose the next morning, Solas knew with sick certainty that he had to return to the clearing.

"Mamae?"

Voice echoing strangely in the open, Solas ran to her the moment he was close enough to see. Stricken, feet slipping in the mud, the moment was almost an exact copy of the day before, but it could not have been more different. He took in the sight of her prone body, the scarlet of her blood splashed across her chest,and felt himself grow increasingly more sick with each detail.

Anger bubbled to the surface, as fierce and hot as any fire. But more than that, the self-loathing was suffocating, and the guilt drove him to his knees as he caught sight of what had to be the killing blow.

It was impossible to know how long he sobbed over her body, clutching her hand as he begged her to wake up, to open her eyes and scold him once more.

But Elagara was long gone. And though he could not appreciate it at the time, there was a serenity to his mother's expression, a beauty in that quiet repose.

"I tried wiping the blood from her face but only made it worse," Solas broke from the memory to address his solitary listener, sensing the turmoil beneath her rigid posture, her too-tight expression.

"In the end there was mud all over her face instead of blood. And nothing was going to bring her back, how could it?"

He spoke quietly, carefully, as if speaking the wrong word might fracture their delicate situation, or perhaps shatter _him_ completely.

"Solas." Her brow arched in distress, in empathy, and her eyes shone with emotion, "I cannot imagine."

"It is best if you do not." He said, "I only share this because it was under these circumstances that I met _him_."

"Well," Solas amended obliquely, "_Really_ met him, that is."

Lavellan frowned in confusion, "Met whom?"

Remembering the angled features and even sharper words that had been exchanged at their first meeting, Solas sighed. But when he said the word in elvish he frowned at the connotation. There had been little paternal instinct in the man who had claimed him after his mother's death. And so, instead of repeating himself, Solas smiled thinly.

"The stranger from before...man who fathered me."

The memory of their meeting resurfaced easily enough. Solas could still smell the delicate fragrance of the flowers he had planted around his mother's body, could still remember the lace-like fronds of the tree he had settled upon her breast. In time she would find life again, as part of the forest. But her time as mother was over, and never again would Elgara give her son that exasperated half-smile he still craved so desperately.

"You are to come with me."

The voice cut through the silence of the forest, drawing a young Solas temporarily out of his misery to turn and face the speaker. Stoic expression, blue eyes, he recognized the man's towering height, but he did not welcome him. Not when the memories of his mother's distress at his hands remained.

"My home is here. And I do not know you." Solas spoke coldly, caring nothing for the man's power, position.

"Your mother is dead. There is nothing keeping you here."

"I do not like you." Solas sneered, "That is reason enough to stay."

"I'm not asking you to like me." The man said blandly, "But you are of my lineage, and with that comes a host of responsibilities, ones you are finally old enough to undertake."

"I am my _mother's_ son." The younger man disagreed, "Whatever claim you may have on me matters not. And as long as her tree grows in the forest I will have reason enough to stay."

His words made the man's face flicker with something, but it disappeared before Solas could identify it.

"A tree cannot replace your mother, no matter how desperately you may wish it." His father said at last, voice hard but no longer as cold as he had been. "You have a duty that extends far beyond what you currently comprehend. You must come with me."

"I do not want that _duty_, or whatever other privileges come with being like you." Solas snarled, "I do not want to go to those cities and bury my compassion for the people with power and domination."

The smile on the man's lips was sharp and cold, "Good. Then you will fit in with all of those that watch their ideals falter in the face of reality."

"I am not going with you."

The man's smile grew, "Aren't you?

And in the next moment he extended his hand, sending a bolt of power, of magic towards Elagara's burial mound. It caught fire in an instant, a roaring flame so strong that the heat of it singed Solas' hair until he stumbled away.

Within seconds it was little more than cinder and ash, the flowers and single tree gone in an instant. It was as if Elagara's body had never been there, had never existed.

"What have you done?!" Solas cried, grief and anger driving tears down his cheeks, "How could you?!"

The magic came to him then, a wild reckless thing that matched him perfectly. And though he had temper enough to direct it, he did not have the skill to overcome the other man.

"I suppose he could have killed me then. I certainly tried to do him harm." Solas sighed, "But I had not yet discovered the full power of dreaming, and my power was yet new. In the end I had little choice. I went, did my duty...grew to be a bitter man, purposefully wild and arrogant just to spite _him_. There was not a day that went by when I did not resent him...and I hated him as much as the creature that killed _her_."

He turned, looked at her, "You recognize the description though, don't you? The dark fur and red eyes. In my time it did not have a name but it came to matter a great deal in the end."

"The Dread Wolf?" Lavellan asked, voice tight in horror and disbelief.

Solas was silent for a long moment, "The answer was far more complicated than you might expect. But suffice to my mother's death was not the last time my recklessness would cause issue."

Agony crossed his face and he lapsed into silence. And when at last he rose from his seat he seemed to have aged an eternity. Figure slightly hunched, expression lined in grief and the strength of his memories, Solas made it as far as the window before his breath escaped him in a great whoosh of air that seemed to carry with it all the sorrow of a millennia.

Pressing a feverish brow against the chilled glass, he tried to summon the peace to continue. But his hand was clamped tightly on the wolf bone he wore, and his heart seemed even more tightly knotted.

He sighed, "Forgive me, it seems I can speak no more of this. Not tonight."

Lavellan's eyes lingered on the amulet as she wondered at the meaning, the origin. Had he carried this as a burden, a reminder of what his pride had wrought? Was it the jaw of the wolf that had killed his mother? The original Dread Wolf maybe?

She swallowed hard, pushing down the ache in her chest long enough to speak.

"Will you be back tomorrow?" She asked, slowly rising from her place to approach him.

"I have not yet told you the entirety of my story. So yes, I will return." Solas grimaced as he stepped away from the window, pressing the tips on his fingers to where his brow had furrowed so deeply.

"But if you should go," Lavellan began, "If for some reason you find you must leave-"

"Cole will tell you." Solas responded quietly, immediately, "I will leave a message for him to find, a thought for him to pass on to you. It will be the very least I can do."

He turned to go then, striding towards the door. It would be a risk to look at her in that moment, the expression on her face would undo him. Her tenderness, he knew, would shatter him completely. But no sooner had his fingers tightened upon the handle of the door when Lavellan called to him, and he found himself rooted to the ground, a puppet to her whims.

When he finally found the strength to do as she asked, he was met with the sight of the fur-lined cloak offered to him with a quiet smile.

"The night it yet cold." She chided as she met his eyes. Tone kept carefully light she did not speak of the story that yet filled her with sorrow. "It would be a shame for you to forget this here."

But no sooner had the cloak passed between them, when there was a soft gasp from her lips, a whisper of something down both of their spines.

For in that moment he had moved, _acted_ and before she could think to lower her hands, she found herself stopped short by the familiar warmth and roughness of his own. Skin to skin, hands wrapped around each other together like lovers.

They still fit one another perfectly.

_Vhenan._

He did not have to say the word aloud for her to hear it, to see it despite his restraint. And when she remained silent, allowed her hand to linger in his grasp, he brought his lips down to brush the tips of her fingers. Long and slender, their graceful taper hid the strength he knew she had in volume. He needed to borrow some of that strength now, and so he touched his lips to each in turn, listening to the soft sound of her breathing, the thunder of his own heart.

Later, he tilted her hand up so that he might press his lips against the hollow of her wrist, the veins that carried the beat of her heart. But it was when he delved into that smooth curve of her palm, heard her soft sigh of pleasure, that he realized he had to stop.

Pulling slowly away he lifted his eyes to see her cheeks flushed, eyes dark with pleasure. Perhaps he should have felt remorse. But instead he could feel only a savage victory. The look on her face, the softness that was so intimately meant for him, was the sweetest of rewards.

_Dare he go down this path again?_

Confusion bubbled up, and with it the need to leave.

"Sleep well, Lavellan." He said roughly, though he released her hand with reverent tenderness. And then, pressing a small scrap of paper into her warm palm, he turned and left without another word.


	32. Heart

AN: Hello my Lovelies! Thanks so much for the crazy amount of support on the last chapter! We added several more people to the favorites and follows, and those of you who reviewed were absolutely wonderful!

I regards to a question by 8oclocksleeper: You are totally right - I started the story using the first name of the Lavellan I had in my own game. But because I really wanted everyone to be able to insert their own ladies into the story I ended up shifting into the use of the last name. I may go back and change this at some point, but I'll do that once I have this story all finished up :) Good catch though!

Vern, 8oclocksleeper, LifeandFire25, LilithiaRW, DemonDragon000, AkatsukiShizu3, Skidney, Ioialoha, Elvhen Glory- thanks for all your words these past few chapters. It's been an absolute pleasure getting to hear your thoughts.

Please don't hesitate to reach out - I am always happy to hear from you!

Best,

Voi

* * *

_"Sleep well, Lavellan."_

The memory of his lips on her fingers made her tremble, made her chest ease and tighten in equal measure. He was such an infuriatingly complex man, and it seemed she was no better.

It would have been childish to pretend their meeting last night had not made her question her earlier decision to find a stable match. A match with _Theron_. There was little doubt that she and the Hero of Ferelden could be happy, _w__ould be _happy together. They had proven to be of similar mind and their easy manner meant that at the very least they would be friends. But while she enjoyed Theron's flirting, his teasing smiles, the connection between them was built on the premise of stability and compatibility rather than romance.

The opposite seemed true of her relationship with Solas. And not for the first time did Lavellan wish that her heart would remember to do as her mind willed it. Even then, her mind showed signs of betrayal for even now it replayed the memory of his kiss on loop.

She snorted in self-disgust; she was a grown _woman_, not a child.

And yet, it was the heart of this woman that knew something had been different in the way he had approached her last night. Of course, he had been as distant as usual, at least in the beginning. But by the end she had felt that tenuous connection between them strengthened. Or rather, they had built a _new _connection, one that in time might supplant the broken bindings they had forged the first time.

His story, the details of his past could be the basis for a new relationship between them, one built on truth, on trust. And the way he had touched her...

Lavellan bit her lip as she looked at the tips of her fingers. Given that she had known him intimately, romantically, his restraint had not quite been a surprise. Their brief dance around one another during the events of the breach, and later Corypheus, had proven that Solas was as self-contained, as controlled, as they came.

Except when he was not.

Their first kiss in the Fade, the second on the balcony of her bedroom, that night in Halamshiral.

She remembered each in turn and her lips parted with the memory of his own ardent touches. There was a passionate man beneath that tranquil facade, a fierceness. But in the past he had never been the one to initiate their contact, had allowed _her _set their pace.

Now it seemed _he _meant to show her, to lead their dance.

Was this the result of his fragile state - the actions of a man losing control of parts of himself? Or was this how he had always been, how he _would have been,_ had he trusted her from the start?

Frustration welled, deep and self-directed. Despite her better judgment she had analyzed each moment down to its nuances, rather than given it the space and distance it warranted.

Demanding more of herself, she raised her other hand to look at the paper, the drawing, he had given her shortly before his departure. It was the sketch he had promised, the one of June's sigil. She recognized Solas' hand, his artistic sensibility in the sloping curve of the crest, the sensitive play of line weight.

But for all that she knew the artist, and the voices of the well acknowledged that this was indeed the sigil, she had never seen the pattern before. But the crafters might, Dirthamen's priest had suggested as much.

Before she could start down the path toward the town however a soft tapping on her shoulder had her turning around. Bright eyes and an easy smile, the hunter gave a funny little wave when she recognized him.

"Theron!" Her brows rose with surprise, "What are you doing here?"

"You mean 'here' as in the middle of a grassy path on my way to your house?" He grinned, "I heard you were involved in a spirited greeting with the Ehnuven Clan and thought I'd come over to express my condolences."

"Ah, that."

Her confrontation with them seemed so distant after the events of the previous evening, as if it had happened a lifetime ago.

She smiled faintly, "I appreciate your concern. But I think we reached an agreement despite a rather...stilted start."

"Stilted start?" He laughed, the sound warm with amusement, "My lady, that is the kindest word for a would-be ambush I have ever heard."

"You know, you are rather infuriatingly well informed." Lavellan admitted as she saw the humor flit across his face, "Either that or extraordinarily nosy."

"Nosy indeed," He chuckled, letting her know her dry humor had not gone unappreciated, "It was that particular quality that got me into trouble in the first place. Off on a grand adventure before I had the sense to run away."

"A grand adventure..." Lavellan mused, "I may have unwittingly embarked on another. Care to join me?"

Her companion gestured grandly towards the city, "By all means, lead the way!"

"You have yet to ask about the details of said adventure," She pointed out, as they slowly began to walk, "What if I'm leading you to some distant land?"

He shrugged, "I trust you. Besides, something tell me this 'distant land' you speak of it probably the village market."

Now it was her turn to laugh, "Just so."

And so they headed for the center of town, walking in easy silence. But as they ventured forth so too did Lavellan find her thoughts wander once more, and it was not until Theron called a halt, handsome face creased in concern, that she realized the direction of her thoughts might be all too apparent to those that knew her well.

"Is everything alright?" He said, "You're frowning, and the little crease there in your brow suggests it's a rather large problem. Do you want to talk about it?"

His sensitivity to her own state of mind was flattering, comforting even. But when she tried to smile felt her lips turn down at the corners instead.

"I had a rather difficult time falling asleep. Too many problems and not enough solutions."

The maddening cyclical path of her thoughts had kept her up until sunrise, but she hesitated to make any mention of Solas specifically.

"Indeed? And would a moonlit meeting with your ex-lover count among these problems?"

The uncanny accuracy of his guess left her staring at him wide-eyed and stunned. In response, his lips twitched with unspoken laughter, "There is a rather tantalizing rumor circulating that he appeared at your doorstep last night."

Mortification made Lavellan's cheeks deepen in color until it was nearly scarlet. "I know not how you do it but it is almost as if Dirthamen himself whispers in your ear."

Theron's restraint broke as he laughed, "I thought you guessed it earlier! I am a nosy man, but more than that, I am a nosy man who has made friends with all the elderly ladies of the clans. You know how they are, they would much rather forgo sleep than miss out on a juicy story."

Lavellan sighed, feeling herself still flush from embarrassment and horror, "I seem to have forgotten that living among the clans means there is no such thing as privacy."

"No indeed. Rather the opposite." Her companion said with a smile.

She sighed, given then to seriousness, "But it is not what you think. There was business being discussed...not matters of the heart. At least, that was not the intent."

"Even if there was, I have no reason to judge you." Theron shrugged, "My own choice in partners has meant a break with more traditional Dalish experiences."

Lavellan glanced at him for a moment, but said nothing.

Theron laughed again, but this one was rife with admiration. "Oh you are very good. No question from your lips and yet I feel compelled to answer you all the same. No, my lover was not human, but then Zevran was not exactly Dalish either, despite his parentage."

The name of his lover was unusual enough that Lavellan asked, "Zevran _Aranai_?"

"Yes." Theron smiled, albeit sadly "I see his reputation precedes him."

"He is the leader of the Antivan Crows," Lavellan pointed out, "It is a reputation worth remembering."

She smiled, she had entertained the man at the keep not a year earlier. He had made quite the impression, "For an assassin he seemed most charming."

Theron sighed, "He truly is."

"I did not realize the two of you were involved." Lavellan said, "My own spymaster is rather well connected so I'm surprised I did not hear something of it."

"That is because Leliana is a rather dear friend of _mine _as well."

"Ah." Lavellan laughed, shaking her head, "I see."

"Still, our relation is a thing of the past." There was a flash of something, pain maybe, on Theron's face. It was the first expression of something other than good humor she had seen from him, and its appearance now seemed all the more serious because of it.

"It ended shortly after the events of the Blight."

"I assumed as much...since you are here, with me. But you do not sound particularly happy about it." She asked pointedly, frowning in sympathy when that look crossed his face a second time, "Did you _want _to end it?"

"I...did."

Her lips quirked into a small smile, "That is rather unconvincing, Theron."

The tall man sighed, passing his hand over his face as if to physically gather his thoughts in his grasp. Tense, stiff, he seemed to be trying to undo the rigidity that had suddenly settled into his shoulders, his expressions. Whatever had happened between them had clearly left its mark, and Lavellan was as curious as she was concerned.

"He no longer speaks to me, " Theron said after a long moment of silence, "And I have long since given up writing letters. It was too painful to pretend to be friends when it felt somehow...less than it was before."

"What happened?"

"The simple answer?" Theron growled suddenly, "I wished to keep him out of harm's way. But he seemed rather intent on seeking it out regardless."

"And so in response he went and waged a bloody war against the other leaders of the Antivan Crows until he was king?" Lavellan nodded knowingly, "Sounds like he succeeded despite your best efforts."

Theron frowned, surveying her with new eyes, "You rather sound like you agree with him."

"The situation is not entirely foreign to me." She admitted, "But I am curious to get your read on it, since I am rather in the _Zevran _part of the equation, myself."

"Ah." His eyes cleared nodded, "Very well. What then is your question?"

Lavellan smiled, pleased, "My question is: Why?"

"Why?" Theron repeated, "I told you, I wished to spare him the danger, keep him from any more trouble."

"Zevran rather struck me as one used to such a life." She pointed out, "As a Crow he knew that better than most, I'm sure. So why leave him out of yours?"

"I..."Theron sighed, "He very nearly died helping me get to the Archdemon. It seemed...foolish to tempt fate again. To take him with me on another mission that promised more of the same."

"Did you ask him what he wanted?" Lavellan asked gently.

"I did not have to. He had already told me he would storm the gates of the dark city by my side if I asked it."

"Then why? You doubted his abilities?"

"I doubted _my _courage." Theron said after a long while. "I knew he would gladly _die _for me, and the thought haunted me for days. I cared for him too much to put him in that situation, and I knew I would not be able to complete my task if he was beside me."

"So you left him behind."

"Yes." Theron looked stricken, "And he never forgave me."

"But your mission is over, is it not? You found what you were looking for...a cure to the taint?"

"Yes. I found what I needed. But by then it had been years. It seemed too late." Theron smiled thinly, "Zevran was always a popular man. I was sure he had found another lover."

And then, Theron pinned her with a look, "Why are we speaking of this, Lavellan? Have I not already made my intentions to you clear?"

"You have been a decent man and a genuine friend to me." She said, "But I wonder if you are not as tied to the past as I am. Are you truly ready to move past him? To disregard a future with Zevran for _me_?" Lavellan asked curiously.

Theron looked troubled but smiled, "Are you ready to walk away from a possible future with _your _lover?"

She frowned as he turned the question back on her, ignoring it for the moment in favor of entreating with him once more.

"Write a letter to Zevran." She said, "Explain _everything_ to him_, _Theron."

"I will not apologize for the choices I made." Theron said tightly, "They may not have been right. But I did them for good reason, because I cared about him."

"Because you _care _about him." She corrected with a small smile, "And that is what matters."

"It will not guarantee forgiveness." He pointed out.

"No. That is true." Lavellan admitted with a nod, "But a strong friendship might yet be salvaged."

Her words drifted into a considered silence and it was a while before either one of them spoke again. Instead they returned to their walking, inching closer to the town. It was when they were rounding the final bend in the road that Theron spoke again.

"Shall I ask you do to the same?" He said, stopping once more, "Maybe not compose a letter, but speak to your lover about this arrangement of ours."

"To what end?" Lavellan asked, "It was _he _who chose to end things. And as far as I know his mission is not yet over. Indeed there are additional complications. We already speak, but it is as I said before: business."

"Lavellan." Theron sighed, "Men's hearts do not forget those they love so easily."

"I know. But sometimes duty supplants even the most tender of emotions."

She shook her head, "_You _should write to Zevran because even now you think of him. Your mission is _over_, so perhaps now you may build a life together."

"I cannot speak to my lover of this." She continued stubbornly, "I _will not_. He has his own path, and I have mine."

"But you love him still." Theron said, "I can see it in your expression whenever you speak of him."

The words were uttered gently, but Lavellan reeled back as if she had been struck. Face pale, expression stark, she shook her head in denial, "Please don't say that."

"Lavellan." He chided, "There is nothing wrong in your feelings."

"I admit to still harboring an affection for him, _that_ is true." She said, "But he is father to my children, and so we will always have that bond."

"It is more than that, I think."

But when she said nothing, when she chose _silence_, it was Theron who stepped closer and gently drew her face upwards to look him in the eye.

"If you are truly set on this, then will you not bond with me now? Tell the keeper and we can prepare as quickly as possible."

She shook her head stubbornly, "You need to write Zevran."

Her words drew a small exasperated sigh from his lips, his fingers gently reaching up to brush the sharp line of her jaw as he traced up and around the shell of her ear. Tender, he lingered on the tapered point, swept his fingers through the wisps of hair that had escaped the tidy braid she had set that morning.

"Will you bond with me if he chooses to ignore my message?" He asked at last, "Would you be content to be mine? To share your family with me, your life?"

Lavellan looked up at him then, her expression serious, "Yes."

"What about children?" Theron said gently, "I would love your sons like my own...but would you want to raise more babies with me?"

Her cheeks flushed but she smiled slowly, "A daughter maybe, two little boys is more than enough don't you think?"

Theron chuckled, "Yes, I think three might be my limit."

But his expression faded soon afterwards, replaced by a small frown. Touching her cheek he asked, "Do you really mean it? I have no plans of dying young, at least not anymore. We could be together for a long time."

"I could use someone to grow old with." Lavellan said honestly, feeling the longing swell with her words, "Someone to walk beside me through life."

"Would you feel that way even if this union breaks hearts in the process, dear one?"

"It would not break _my_ heart." She protested, though her heart ached mutinously at her lie.

"No?" Theron gave her a pitying look, "It would break _mine_. It would break for _you _and for_ him_."

And before she could say anything, he bent down to kiss her brow, the gesture one of warm affection, one shared between good friends.

"Come now." He said, as he drew away, taking her hand in his own, "We still have time to think about it. There's no need to rush just yet."


	33. Sharing

AN: Hello all! There was a massive outpouring of Theron love for the last chapter which has me absolutely glowing :) So happy that people like him! Also thanks so much to those who left such wonderful and thoughtful compliments. It really does make writing all the more rewarding to hear such warm things, so thanks to everyone for their kindness.

I hope you enjoy this next one!

Best,

Voi

* * *

He hadn't been able to sleep.

Dawn had come, painting the sky all the colors of dreams yet dreamt, but Solas had been unable to appreciate the beauty of it. Staring out at the world with sightless eyes, he had broken from his trance to find himself not at his temporary abode, but at the edge of a lake, bare toes sinking into the fine gravel of the water's edge.

_How long had he walked?_

_How far had he traveled?_

On either side of him rose the magnificent white crests of mountain peaks, at their base the impenetrable green of ancient forests. If he wanted he could continue this journey now, press on instead of turning back. One moment, one choice and he would be adrift once more.

_Alone once more._

But to push forward was to leave Lavellan behind, leave the twins behind, and that he could not do. Not yet. For even though the distance between them was painful, the loss of their presence forever would be unbearable.

He had made a promise and for as long as he was able, he meant to keep it.

It was for this reason that he found himself back in Wycome several hours later, body aching with exhaustion but heart lighter, at peace. His decision to return would prove to be well timed for no sooner had he arrived when the voice of his youngest called out in jubilant greeting.

"Solas?!" The little voice came from the front door, the far side of the house, "Are you there? Are you still sleeping?!"

There was a series of sharp knocks on the door, followed by a soft huff, "So-las?!"

He rounded the corner to see Numinehn's little brow crease in concern, looking to his older brothers when he heard nothing.

"Where do you think he is?" The small voice, rife with worry, had Cole bending down to gently rub his sibling's back.

"He will be here soon." The spirit promised, "No need to worry, wonder, wince at a blow not yet fallen. You'll see."

"Are you sure?" Era'fen sounded doubtful, surveyed cottage with unmistakable skepticism. "Maybe he left. He never promised to stay, not like mamae."

"I am sure." Cole said kindly, "I would _know_."

And it was at that moment, that Solas allowed himself to step on a stray bit of branch, to draw attention to his position, his location. Numinehn was at his side in an instant, eyes wide and happy, expression any trace of the concern that had suffused his words earlier.

"You're here!" His brightness was a counter point to Era'fen's noted lack of enthusiasm, "We thought maybe you were gone. But you are here!"

"Yes, I am." Solas smiled down at his youngest, "I apologize for not answering earlier. I went for a walk, to look at the trees."

"Then you did like us," Numinehn smiled sunnily as he continued to babble, "We went to look at the big flowers growing on the hills."

"The sunflowers?"

Solas asked curiously. He knew where they grew, but their location was on the opposite side of town, far out of the way to Solas' own temporary abode.

"Yes. I saw some butterflies on them yesterday. Era'fen and Numinehn have been looking for a blue one, and I thought we could see them today."

Cole's voice was light, but his manner of speech was more serious, more straightforward than was usual. Solas took note.

"It was your idea, Cole?"

"Yes." There was a flash of a smile there for his siblings, but his eyes were fixed on Solas. The spirit boy had known they would have found an empty house earlier that morning, and had done what he could to delay the heartache.

Solas nodded, swallowed, "I understand, thank you."

"Now then." He said, looking at them all, "Why have you come? Is there something exciting happening in town?"

"We are here for our lesson." Era'fen said by was of explanation, "Numinehn said you could help us with the dreams."

It had been several days since they had last met in the Fade, but the dream, the nightmare had continued to plague them. His offer to help had been a father's desperate plea to protect the small lives he found under his care.

That they were here now was a relief, and all the more a confirmation that his decision that morning had been the right one.

"Will you be alright, Cole?" Era'fen asked quietly when it appeared as if Solas might indeed teach them. Little face craned upward to look at his big brother, Era'fen watched the smile curve and brighten his features. And this time the smile seemed real...genuine, not the one he had used just moments before.

"Yes." The spirit nodded as he smiled, "I will be here, listening to your hearts, your hurts, but I will stay outside."

"Looking at the butterflies?" Numinehn asked.

His eldest brother shook his head, "Looking at the flowers."

It took little time for the three dreamers to find themselves in the Fade. Having sought the comforts of blankets and pillows in the waking world, they had fallen asleep quickly, with the sort of natural predisposition of one of their talents.

And when the Fade rose up around them it was with the sort of warm familiarity of a friend. Stepping into that landscape of spirits and dreams, Solas scanned the plane for any immediate dangers, easing slightly when he found none.

But when he turned back to look at them, both boys were fixated on a point on the horizon. Following their gaze, he peered through the twisting, tumultuous clouds to where a tall spire stood in the distance.

"A temple?" He asked.

There would be nothing but ruins to find if he sought it when awake, but here in the Fade the persistence of memory kept such things very much alive, as glorious as they had once been.

"It is _the_ temple." Era'fen and Numinehn responded at the same time, their voices subdued, "The one from the nightmares."

Their certaintly was tinged with fear and Solas felt himself stiffen in response.

"You're certain?" He strained his eyes, his considerable power of sight, to take in what little detail the spire had to offer.

"Yes." Era'fen looked grim, "We found the opening...the door, when we were playing. It was locked, but it felt strange to be around it. It felt...bad. We started having the bad dreams afterwards."

Numinehn whimpered, tucking himself against his brother as the memory drew darkness from the Fade like a beacon and began to collect it around them. As dreamers their ability to influence the Fade was a double edged blade, and their fear manifested just as naturally as any force of will.

Solas frowned at the storm that continued to grow above them, "Perhaps we should make that the first lesson."

He gestured to the temple, "Can you still feel its resonance here?"

Both boys shook their head, their relief apparent in the smoothness of their expression.

"Then why be frightened?" He gestured his hand and the land around them rippled, "As a dreamer you have such _talent_, why use it to make the Fade a darker place?"

There was a flash at his fingertips and veilfire, blue and brilliant, danced in his grasp, flitted like the butterflies they had mentioned earlier. And with its light the darkness began to recceed.

"Oh." Numinehn's expression morphed into one of delight. But though he had been the one to voice his wonder, it was Era'fen that seemed absolutely transfixed.

"Try _illuminating_ the issue, rather than running from it." Solas said gently, lowering himself to his knees so that he might look at his sons directly.

"There is nothing in the Fade that needs to be feared, not truly."

And with that, he spilled the fire into the hands of his youngest son, smiling when the butterflies grazed soft baby skin and left it unmarked.

But while Numinehn contented himself with the little veilfire butterflies, chasing them around and sending them to push back the dark, his brother was a very different story.

"There is something on your mind?" Solas asked gently when he saw the little knot in the boy's brow.

"You said things in the Fade need not be feared...but what about the nightmares?" Era'fen asked quietly, "They _hurt_ me."

The memory of the nightmare loomed, the grief and fear that came with seeing his son due to his own failure. Solas swallowed hard and willed himself to control the emotion, to prevent the dark from returning.

Stricken, the little boy looked up, "Is the Fade angry with me? Is it because I am a _bad person_?"

"A bad person?" Solas repeated the words with a frown, reached down to touch his son's shoulder, "You are still young, _still learning_. The Fade is not something that would judge you like that."

"Then why?" His little face was tight with misery.

"The Fade does not need to be feared," Solas repeated, "But there _are_ dangerous beings that live within it. Strong dreamers always attract good and bad in equal measure."

"Are you sure, Solas?"

It was the first time that Era'fen had ever used his name without temper or suspicion. And though the realization made him smile, Solas knew better than to voice the significance of such a change.

Instead he said, "You are _not_ bad, but you lack knowledge, and _that _is dangerous."

When the little boy nodded Solas continued,"I will teach you how to defend yourself. You and your brother, both. Will you listen if I teach you?"

Ad when Era'fen smiled eagerly they began their lesson. A mentor, a teacher, a father, Solas was all these things in that moment, and the twins worked and learned as any student might. Spinning their will to ease the darkness that had found them in the Fade, they used veilfire and their connection to the land to shift the lands, to guard themselves.

"Very well done."

Solas touched the changes they wrought, and offered suggestions. Pointing and leading, he helped them transform their space from open field to sloping cave.

Of the two, Era'fen was the more naturally gifted at altering the Fade. Where Numinehn was content to work within the physical confines of the land, his older brother had no qualms with shifting the world to better suit his needs. And though the nature of the Fade meant that these changes would vanish with time, for now Era'fen built without reservation, exercising a joyful abandon Solas recognized from his own experiences.

"Solas?" Numinehn tugged on his sleeve as they watched Era'fen smooth the cracks in his landscape.

"May I share something with you?"

Solas looked away to focus on his youngest, "Yes of course. What would you like share?"

The little boy smiled as he extended his hands, "_This_."

And between one minute and the next the whole world seemed to change, to roll and pitch as everything moved at once. Chaos, absolute unintelligible noise and then, before Solas could do anything to control it, stillness and the realization that he was standing in a very familiar room.

Stained glass windows, folding doors that led to a balcony, the familiar scenes in the wall hangings, even the scent of the room was the same. Solas felt his throat tighten when he spied the too-messy desk crowded with all manner of books, the mirror half-covered beneath a spare blanket.

It was quite unlike anything he had expected. Or rather, the location was so accurate, so uncannily realistic, that he could understand in that moment why mages feared the power of spirits and beings who could weave such convincing facsimiles of reality.

"This is not a dream is it?" Solas forced the words past frozen lips.

"No. This is a memory." His youngest smiled, "Our _first_ memory."

Solas looked around in stunned silence.

"Numinehn." Era'fen sounded grumpy as he approached them, unhappy that his brother had interrupted his own work, "You are not following the lesson."

"But you know how to protect us now." His twin pointed out, "So we will be safe."

"But-"

"I wanted to _share_." Numinehn said stubbornly, "I wanted Solas to _see_."

But before Solas could ask either of his sons to clarify what there was to see, there was another voice, a _feminine_ voice, and the question died on his lips.

And from the balcony she came, as serene as moonlight, as warm as sunshine. Dressed for the Keep, everything about her was relaxed, at ease, if albeit a little sad. Solas recognized the circles beneath her eyes, the pale parlor that spoke of sleepless nights.

"Hello my darlings."

Lavellan's smile was as tender as Solas had ever seen. And though she did not see them, they were able to follow her as she crossed the room to the beautiful hewn cradle that sat beside her bed. From it she drew one small squalling boy, and though she did not identify him, Solas knew immediately it was their youngest.

"Hush ma'dharlin." She cooed, as she cuddled the child close, "You will wake your brother. I am here, now. Shhh..."

But Numinehn was not to be soothed, and he cried fretfully when she stilled for just a moment to check if he was dry.

"Perhaps you are hungry?," Her smile was soft, patient, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek despite the wailing, "I can fix that as well."

Settling herself against the headboard of her bed, she used the pillows around her to cushion her back, her arms, the small child she carried. Then, comfortable enough for the time being, she gently tugged the ties of her blouse to draw it open. And when she found him eager to nurse, her sudden sigh of relief electrified the man who had missed out on it all.

Solas had seen her as a mother before, had witnessed the easy way she handled her children first hand. But watching her now, at the start of that journey, her struggles, he was forced to confront once more the cost of his absence.

If he had stayed, he would have been beside her, helping her, easing the strain that he could see so clearly. They would have shared in the countless small pleasures of parenthood, the hundreds of small victories and milestones that came with raising children together.

And for the hundredth time he found himself confronted with the knowledge that his choice, their mutual sacrifice, had not been worth the price they paid. That in leaving, he had made a mistake.

She settled Numinhn back in the cradle when he was fed and happy, eyes falling shut as he luxuriated in the feeling of a full belly and the warm touch of his mother.

Moving from one baby to the next, Lavellan brushed the Era'fens round baby cheek but left him alone when he remained as content and quiet as before.

"My little dreamers." She spoke with a whisper, but her eyes filled with all manner of words unspoken, "I wish your father could have been here."

And it was in that moment, that excruciating second, that her voice seemed to catch in her throat. Posture rigid, hands clamped on the edge of that cradle, Solas watched as her expression tightened, twisted with the emotion that finally overcame the iron grip of her control.

Agony played across her features, forced her body to bow until it looked as if she might break. But in the depths of that pain she found strength and Solas saw the moment the sorrow turned to singing, became a lullaby that soothed the two children that needed her to be so strong.

And it did not matter that her voice seemed rough with emotion, or that her eyes shone wetly in the daylight. Alone though she was, Lavellan created for herself a moment of beauty, of peace, and watching that _shattered_ Solas completely.

His eyes opened a moment later to the surroundings of the cottage. Lavellan's lullaby still ringing in his ears, filling his heart and mind with such strained emotion he felt mute with it. Turning to his side he found both boys watching him uneasily, their brows twisted in concern.

Swallowing hard he asked, "Does she still..."

His voice failed then, throat too tight to finish.

"Sing to us?" Era'fen finished quietly, his blue eyes bright with knowing.

Solas nodded.

"Yes." Numinehn said, smiling softly.

Solas exhaled slowly, feeling the hitch remain in his heart.

"Thank you for sharing with me."


	34. Luck

AN: Hello all! Apologies for the delay on this one - I promise this chapter and the next will have a much smaller bit of time between them. Thanks again to everyone's awesome support - I can't believe this fic has gotten so much attention and it means a lot that so many people remain interested.

I hope you enjoy this one, let me know what you think!

Much love,

~Voi

* * *

Lavellan returned from the market that afternoon having had little luck tracking down a craftsman who recognized, never mind _crafted_, the stylings of June. Theron had accompanied her for majority of the day, filling it with laughter and good humor. But shortly after lunch he had finally acquiesced her earlier request and gone off to write his letter and then find a raven.

His willingness to try and contact Zevran had made her smile, even if it cast her own future in doubt once more. It seemed despite the years she had remained a romantic at heart.

She strolled through the remainder of the shops with a smile on her face, enjoying her solitude as she wandered through the narrow streets that connected the townsfolk to the clansfolk. Stopping at blacksmiths and artisan wood-workers alike, she continued her search, but in the end came up with nothing.

It seemed that, at least for the time being, her mission would continue.

Solas was waiting for her when she arrived at his cottage. Sitting contentedly in a stray bit of sunlight, his expression was more peaceful than she had seen since they had arrived. Focused as he was on the raunchous noise making of their children, she smiled when he looked over, noticed her, and wordlessly shifted in his seat so that she might sit and watch as well.

"It seems you had a good afternoon with them." She observed after a time, enjoying the easy companionship he offered, the domesticity that seemed to suit him despite the newness of it.

"Indeed." His smile was small but warm, and the look he gave her seemed searching, through Lavellan had no idea what he might be looking for specifically.

"How was your trip to the market?" He asked, "The boys mentioned you were going to search for June's mark."

"My trip was eventful if not entirely fruitful. Still, I have several ideas and I plan to send a letter to the Keep so that more copies of your sketch may be made and sent."

Solas smiled, "It seems you've thought of everything then."

Lavellan smiled faintly in return, "I am trying."

They enjoyed the sound of their children's laughter for another hour, cocooned in their own insulated world, removed from the worries that would have otherwise stuck so close. A small reprieve from the strain of it all, Lavellan savored the bright eyed enthusiasm of her sons, the serene but obviously content expression on the face of their father.

Closing her eyes for but a moment she tried to commit the scene to memory, to take in every minute detail and hold it close so that she might keep it forever.

It seemed all too fleeting, and before long the sun had started to dip below the sky. But they allowed their moment to last a little longer, and together they traveled the path back to Lavellan's house, working together in easy harmony to make the evening meal and eat.

It was only after the children had been fed and sent to bathe that Solas drew her aside. Expression grim, more serious now that it was the two of them alone, he exhaled roughly when he saw the question in her eyes.

"Shall we continue our conversation from last night?" He asked, watching as she took in his question, absorbed it, "Or would you prefer I wait?"

A smile flitted across her lips for a moment.

"I do not think we have such a luxury as to wait." She said after a time, voice quiet so that they could still hear the children down the hall, "Nor do I wish to delay once more."

"Then we shall speak tonight?" He asked.

"If you think you will be ready." The look she gave him was knowing, and the memory of the previous evening floated into their midst.

He paused, appreciating her insight before nodding wordlessly. Then, their conversation complete for the moment, they made their way back to the kitchen to clean the dishes from the sink, scrub the table of the mess their three children had made. And neither one mentioned the looks they exchanged amidst the work, the way they lingered close or allowed themselves a little smile.

"Mamae?" Numinehn appeared in the hallway some time later, face pink from his bath, arms wrapped around the little mechanical halla that was his favorite, "Is it bedtime?"

Setting down the cloth in her hands, Lavellan straightened slowly to face her child.

"Yes ma'dharlin." She smiled, "I will be there in a moment."

"Can I say good night to Solas first?" Their youngest asked, cocking his head and looking at the man who stood quietly behind his mother.

"Yes, of course." She smiled, "Let me tell Cole and Era'fen that it will soon be time for bed as well."

And when she left, Numinehn made his way across the room to raise his little arms upwards and demand his hug, expression bright.

Solas chuckled, bending at the knees so that he could slowly pull his son into his arms, holding the small body tight for only the briefest of moments. Warm, soft, Solas sighed as he caught the scent of soap and child. Another reminder of what he might some day lose if he left, a reminder of what he had gained in staying.

"Good night, Solas." His son spoke into his shoulder, "Thank you for teaching us today."

"You're welcome." He said roughly, pressing his lips to his son's brow, "Sleep well and may you find the Fade a place of sweet dreams tonight."

The little boy smiled, waved as he began to leave, "We will."

When Lavellan returned, she found Solas staring into the distance, his hands steepled beneath his chin. Deep in thought, he did not seem to notice her until she brushed her fingers against the strong line of his arm.

"Is everything alright?" She asked in concern.

"Yes, of course." He managed a smile but it looked strained, forced. "Though I would prefer not to intrude on the evening ritual you have with the boys. If you wish, I will take the letter you mentioned earlier and send it off while you tuck them in."

She gave him a grateful look, "Return here when it has been sent?"

He nodded, "So I shall."

Lavellan went to Cole's small makeshift bedroom in the lofted attic place after settling the twins. Having sung her song to them, it was only fair that she now visit her eldest and do the same. Though he had not grown up with such a thing, at least not in the traditional sense, she believed in treating all three boys the same.

"Hello Cole."

He turned and smiled when she greeted him, laying on the bed with a book, it seemed he had been reading one of the books Cassandra had leant him the last time they were at the keep, this one had a large rabbit on the cover.

"Are you going to try to sleep today, or will you be awake all night reading?" She asked as she settled at his bedside. Touching the not-quite-dark rings beneath his eyes she frowned, "Perhaps you should try resting if you can. You look tired."

"I am." he sighed, "The day was long, lengthy, a mixture of holding out hope and enjoying the small pleasures. Sunlight, sunflowers and butterflies. A nice afternoon, but it could have gone very differently."

"Is that what is worrying you?" She asked, "That something sad may happen? That _this_-" she gestured around them vaguely, "Will all go away?"

"Not _this_..." Cole said, "But _him_, Solas. The dark inside grows a little bit more each day, a small measure sharper each time. He tries to control it but he worries his time is running out too quickly, like a hourglass with an opening made two-sizes too large."

"He loves them though...loves _us_." Cole smiled, "He does not call us his children because he is afraid of what that might mean, _could_ mean, but his heart knows the truth."

When Lavellan remained silent, the spirit boy touched her hand, "He knows you sing to us. He found out today. It made him happy, but sad too."

Curiosity colored his voice, "Why does your singing make him sad? Is it a sad song?"

"Oh..." Lavellan gently carded her hand through his mop of hair, "I don't think it's the song specifically, Cole. I think it might be because he was not with us in the beginning, he missed out on that, and he wishes he had not."

"He enjoyed the memory though." Cole's voice cut through the melancholy, "He was lighter for a moment instead of dark. It...smoothed the jagged edges just a little."

She smiled, "I'm glad. Every little bit helps, does it not?"

He nodded, was silent for a moment before he remembered something.

"Mother, do you have a picture of the sigil you've been looking for?"

Lavellan smiled, "Yes, I have the sketch in my pocket. One moment."

She withdrew the sketch, a copy of the one she had sent with Solas for the Keep.

"My drawing skills are not as fine as his," she said apologetically as she gave him the slip of paper, "But I think I have the basics all the same."

Cole's thin fingers traced the lines, the bends and whorls, his brow furrowing as he continued to follow its path.

"A pattern from long ago. When the world sang the same and Solas was not so sad." Cole looked up at her, "It is...strange to see it on paper."

"Is it?" Lavellan smiled, "I have only ever seen it like this. Does Solas think of this pattern often?"

"No." Cole shook his head, "But I have seen it before in metal. Strong, stout, the blood of mountain ranges and age, it feels different made of paper. Flatter, weaker, so fragile that even the power of the sigil cannot make it sing."

His response was not at all what Lavellan had been expecting, and her mouth went slack when she realized that she had stood so close to a lead without knowing it.

"You have seen this before?" Lavellan asked, carefully, "Do you remember where?"

It was then that Cole realized he could help, and his expression brightened, "In the pattern of horns, a set of three, one for each boy. Chaotic and wild, but a symbol of the People. Creatures of nature spun in metal."

Cole pressed a toy into her hands then, a small mechanical halla that was an exact replica of the ones Numinehn and Era'fen both favored.

"Do you see it?" He said eagerly as he arranged it in her hands, tilted it just so. And then there it was, in the dimness of her eldest son's room, the pattern visible in the intricately twined horns, the undulating curves unmistakably tracing the sigil of June.

"Creators..." She looked over her hands to smile in wonder, "You've found it, Cole."

He laughed when she swept him into a hug, "You _found_ it!"

"Where did we get these?" She asked, pulling backward after her heart had ceased to beat so wildly, "Do you remember?"

"The blacksmith at the Keep, the one who likes baked apples and smells of pine trees." Cole smiled, "The woman with the fierce scowl but tender heart."

Lavellan felt mirth bubble upwards until she too was grinning. It seemed they had had a stroke of luck after all.


	35. Legacy

AN: Hello darlings! As promised - here is the next chapter!

I actually struggled writing this one, despite knowing what I wanted to include. Any feedback on the pace of the fic would be great to hear. At this point I feel like the tension between our beloved Lavellan and Solas is really reaching a peak so expect some fireworks in the near future ;)

Thanks so much for your continued support - I hope you enjoy this one!

Voi

* * *

Solas returned to the house to find Lavellan waiting at the door, a small smile on her face, a steaming mug clasped in her hands.

"Were the boys particularly easy to send to bed?" He asked curiously, "Or is it that you have been enjoying the silence?"

She pushed away from the door frame and gestured to the small living room where the hearth was glowing. When he made a face at the drink she carried, she bit back a laugh.

"Did you want a sip?" She teased, "I thought it might help keep up both awake, I expect it will be a rather late evening."

"Indeed." Solas took the offered mug warily, managing only a small sip before he grimaced and handed it back, "Unfortunately necessity does not make it any more appetizing."

A smile touched the corners of her lips, "No, I suppose not."

"Now then, what was it that had you in such a good mood?"

Her lips curved upwards into fulfillment of a most serene smile, "It seems we have stumbled upon a rather good bit of luck."

His brows rose. "Oh?"

"The letter I just had you send was a request to all blacksmiths at the Keep." Lavellan's eyes brightened, " It seems one of them is responsible for a crafted a trio of halla, toys for our sons. And these toys have the mark we are looking for."

And for a moment it seemed as if Solas had been stunned into silence, for not a word passed his lips afterwards, and his blue eyes seemed to grow larger with time.

"Truly? It is a lucky coincidence indeed."

"I promised I would help," Lavellan explained, "It seems Cole has promised to do the same. It was he who found it, showed it to me."

Solas smiled affectionately, "He never fails to amaze me, that boy."

"Nor I." She mirrored his gesture, "He truly is a wonder."

And then, their moment over Solas settled himself across from her, eyes straying from her face to the hearth. He allowed himself to fall into silence for a time, gathering his thoughts, organizing them in a way that might make most sense.

Lavellan did not prod, nor prompt him to speak until he was ready. And when he was so, he signaled it by turning back to her, his expression serious but ready, prepared.

"When last we spoke about my past I told you about my mother, and the man who chose to raise me after she died."

"Yes."

"It made for a...difficult childhood. Under his tutelage I began to study magic in a way that was unlike anything I had experience before. The nobility of that time were among the oldest of our people, had spent hundreds of years learning their craft and they were my teachers. I had the temper, the raw energy to match them, but without finesse I was often left healing myself after my spells spun out of control."

He smiled faintly, "I also cared little about control at the time, anger was my constant companion, and recklessness a familiar friend. Some of the stories the Dalish carry on, the ones that are dark and terrible, these are the products of my temper."

"The stories are of you _as a child_?" Lavellan said aghast, "But they speak of a _man_, not a boy."

"Your stories speak of a _god_, which should tell you how accurate they are. But even then, in ancient times one could be physically an adult but still be in the midst of their childhood. We considered aging much differently back then."

"And what of your father? You said you would get in to trouble, or get injured." She remembered her childhood stories and felt herself pale, "Did he not protect you?"

"No. I could protect myself well enough. He cared little, could have been carved of a glacier for all that he expressed himself."

Solas sighed, "After the way he had burned my mother's remains there was little to be said between us and I never cared for that to change."

He flexed his hands, "Of course, things _did _change when I reached my majority."

"He began to bring me with him, to meet _his _people." Solas said the words with disgust, resignation, "All of them with their tattooed faces, their lives governed by his whims. I saw the face of my mother in every single woman who lived under his control."

"There were monuments built in his honor, great structures of stone hewn with his likeness, worshiping a _god_. And I was supposed to inherit it all." Solas shook his head, "It made me sick, and yet I grew increasingly more confused the more I learned, lived with him."

"Why?"

Solas turned, looked at her when she asked her question.

"Do you remember the way Corypheus seemed to revel in his power?" When she nodded, he continued, "The man who claimed me... he was the opposite. Every visit seemed to make him more withdrawn, a little more worn, brittle, as if it tired him to see it, to be part of this system. And yet he never stopped any of it. He kept his slaves, and there were centuries of wars he perpetuated with apathy, for reasons I still cannot understand."

"I lived as his shadow, his heir, but even then there were secrets I did not learn until too late. It was the anniversary of my mother's death when I made my most fateful discovery."

Solas peered into the dark corners of the room and with his words he seemed to spin the memory from the shadows.

_Head bowed in the center of a large paved courtyard, there was no place for any living thing to grow, but in his hands he cradled a little seedling. It was not a seed from his mother's original tree, all of that had been lost, but it was _a _seed, one that he hoped to grow in memory of her._

_Centuries had passed since he had left home, had been forcibly taken to live here among the nobles, and yet not a day passed that he did not think of her, his mother. _

_"I told you to leave her behind." _

_He had not even heard the man approach, but as he looked over his shoulder there was no ignoring the man's presence now. He stood at the edge of a reflecting pond, eyes as dark as the water at his feet. _

_His sharp features stern, cold, he repeated himself when Solas remained where he was._

_"I do_ _not_ _take orders from you." Young and brash, he slowly got to his feet so that he might match the other man's height. They were the same now, same build, same stubbornness despite their differences in coloring. _

_"You are my heir. You will do as I say." _

_The man, his father barked back, crossing his arms across his plainly clothed form, a detail Solas remembered thinking was strange at the time. The wolf amulet that usually hung around his neck had been missing that day. _

_"You are nothing but a lord who thinks people belong to him. Who cares nothing for those he is supposed to protect and yet does nothing to free them either. They are stuck, held captive by your lack of caring!"_

_"What would you have me do, elfling?" The older elf challenged, "Free them? Make myself the enemy of my peers, the nobility that call me kin?"_

_"Yes." Solas said, _

_"There is a reason we are kept separate, boy. A reason even your mother knew to respect." _

_"Don't you dare_ _speak of my mother." Snapping in anger, Solas felt his hands tingle with magic, "You cared nothing for her when she was alive, save that she bore me. And now that she is dead the least you could do is treat her memory with kindness" _

_"Kindness?" There was something wild and dark in the other man's eyes, "She died little elf, and do you know who was at fault? Who did not listen to her when she told him to stay out of the forest?" _

_It was his temper that brought the sharp whistle of magic to the courtyard, that drew from the dark. Swirling like a tempest, the air seemed to grow heavy with the weight of magical energy, and when his elven body_ _began to twist and contort into something very different, Solas felt himself step back in fear._

_Black fur, eyes the color of blood. _

_And though he should have been outmatched by the creature_ _Solas felt his fear grow to anger_ _when the shadows_ _congealed into the shape of a beast he knew well, the one that haunted his childhood memories and reminded him of the loss he still felt upon his heart._

_Dread Wolf._

_Fen'harel. _

Lavellan shook her head, mute with horror, "Your _father_?

"Yes." Solas grimaced, "Fen'harel was _his _name, before it was mine."

"Then _your _name, 'Solas'..." Lavellan frowned.

"My mother's pet name for me" Solas smiled fleetingly, "She said that when she birthed me she had never had a greater moment in her life. My birth name was Fen'harel, but she always called me Solas."

Solas sighed, "You have to understand that my mother was marked...bore the slave markings that the Dalish, and the circumstances of my birth..."

He looked uncomfortable, "At the time of my revelation I thought that my conception was _not _what my mother wanted. But she never treated me poorly, and I wanted for nothing, neither love nor affection for she gave them to me in ample measure. She was all the parent I needed."

"Fen'harel..." Lavellan spoke the name and found it flavored with all she had learned.

"We do not have markings for him." She said slowly as she tried to process what he was telling her, "That was your doing?"

"Yes. That day...the day I discovered that he had ultimately been responsible for the death of my mother, I struck him down."

It was a tidy phrase for a battle that had raged for hours, the blood and growls of men pushed too far, driven by a loss too painful to even imagine stopping.

Lavellan could not know in detail what had transpired but she crossed the room then to sit beside him, to offer him the comfort of her presence, the warmth of her shoulder against his.

Solas smiled but that too was strained, "I removed his vallaslin from every elf that ever bore them. I spent nearly a _century _doing so. After I supplanted my father as Fen'harel I set about destroying that _empire _he had worked for, the lineage he coveted so dearly."

"Solas."

Her hand touched his arm, slid upwards until she could cup his jaw and turn him so that he would finally look at her.

"The actions of your _father _do not make _you _a bad man." She reminded him.

He touched her hand, brushed his thumb along her wrist. "It is not that...but I appreciate the sentiment. Thank you."

"There is more?" She asked.

"Yes." He sighed, "And I believe it will change your perception yet again."

Lavellan shook her head. "I don't understand."

"I thought my father had killed my mother because he thought her weak, beneath him." He laughed, but it was a cold humorless sound, "It seemed I learned nothing as I aged. Was still as brash and reckless as ever."

She remained silent in the face of such naked pain.

"I had yet another revelation after reading a letter in one of his most remote temples. By this point I had removed all trace of him, save the wolf statues which I hoped to keep as a warning to myself. This temple was to be my last conquest, the final structure to feel the weight of my anger, my _rage_."

_The crystal spire broke through the haze of fog with the sharpness of a knife, glittering like a beacon. Half-hidden amidst the gleaming white of the snow and the swirling beauty of the harsh weather, the building itself was as stark and beautiful as the surrounding landscape._

_Walking silently through the narrow hall, he came to a pair of double doors, great stone carvings in its towering build. Hands on its surface, he gave it a push, first physically and then with magic when it stood impassively before him. _

_The door would not budge, and even further exploration with the most potent of his magic seemed ineffectual._

_However, when he turned to examine the rest of the hall he found himself confronted with a short stone table, and upon it a neatly folded note. Neither had been there when he had first traversed the temple._

_But when he opened the letter, what he found there was not what he had expected. And his hands trembled as he_ _read it a second time, tears stinging his eyes as he was finally privy to _ _the truth, the _whole _truth. _

_My dearest_ _Fen'harel,_

_I fear for you, knowing that you are alone and must face the burden of the beast without me beside you. Say the word and I shall come to your aid, even if I must leave our son behind so as to protect him._

_You told me once that you cared for me above all others, and that I came to carry _ _your son, our child, within me is a testament to the depth of our feelings for one another. I understand that you wish to protect us both from that power that lays dormant within you. But a son needs his father. and I need the one who is the other half of my spirit, the heart that beats outside my chest._

_Please take this token and know that my thoughts are with you always. Return to me if you can. Know that it is a terrible loneliness to be without you. _

_Stay safe, ma vhenan. _

_Forever,_

_Elgara_

"They were in love?" Lavellan whispered, just as stricken in that moment as Solas must have been.

"I did not want to believe it at first." He admitted, "I very nearly destroyed the note when I found it. But reading the message seemed to unlock the door."

He swallowed, "It seemed my father kept his final secret well guarded."

Lavellan's voice was little more than a hushed whisper, "What was it?"

Solas smiled wearily, "A sapling. A little tree preserved in magic."

Her heart clenched, "Your mother's."

He laughed, but it was a short sharp thing that sounded of heartache, "Yes. He had nurtured it to maturity, but there was little doubt it was the same one. I had chosen a rather rare flowering tree for her burial, the blossoms were in bloom when I found it. "

"When he came for me, when he destroyed my mother's burial place, I thought he had wiped all evidence of her existence. And I had done my very best to erase _him_ after I found out. But there was that tree and its presence there damned me doubly."

_A flowering tree, and on one of its_ _branches the token that had been missing from his father the day that they had fought._

_His father had known it would end that way, that with his reveal he would court death._

"The wolf necklace." Lavellan said, "You took it as a reminder."

Solas' smile was strained, "Why else do we keep the tokens of the ones closest to us?"

And she knew he was talking as much about the wolf amulet as he was speaking of the knot, the same one she carried in her pocket.

"Do you not see it?" His touch on her arm was gentle, a brush of fingertips against the crest of her shoulder, "Sooner or later I will be as _he _was."

"You are a talented man, you have taken precautions." Lavellan took his hand in her own, "You sealed the power away once, we could do it again."

"I am still a man." He said quietly, "You have heard it all now, I make errors, mistakes, and often the victims do not deserve the fate that befalls them. The Orb and the explosion were _my _fault. I refuse to add your death and the deaths of our sons to this list."

"I am strong enough to fight you off if I have to." Lavellan said fiercely, "But I refuse to let you give up on yourself, on this life. We have found ways to do the impossible before. We will do it again."

His hands gently drifted up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, "The orb took me _centuries _to create, Lavellan. Time will run out before we find this new solution."

"I'm not going to let you run away." She said hoarsely, her eyes locked on his, matched the intensity of his own blue with those of her own. And then her arms were around him, holding him close as she tucked herself against him, as he folded his arms around her in turn.

"I _will not,_" She whispered, "Not again."

* * *

AN: One more thing!

In celebration of this fic reaching 200+ reviews/followers (a first for me!) I'd invite anyone who is interested to send me a private message (either here or tumblr) with any solas/lavellan fic prompt/wish. I want to do something nice for all of you, since you've been so supportive. If you'd like a little fic gift feel free to send me a message!

My tumbr handle is VoiDreamerFanFiction


	36. Protective

AN: Hello my dears! A bit of a shake-up in this chapter so I wanted to get it right. Where one conflict ends and another one rises ;)

I'll keep this short so you can all read - thanks again to everyone for their support. You guys are absolutely wonderful.

Much love,

~Voi

* * *

The crow had arrived just before dawn, an exquisite Antivan species Theron recognized on sight. The deep blue-black plumage had stood out amongst the other birds as it winged through the air and upon extending his hand the elegant creature was more than happy to swoop down to be admired.

Scarcely a day had passed since he had sent his missive, but it seemed that wherever Zevran was, this bird had had little issue. But the letter Theron retrieved from his feathered messenger was light, scarcely more than a single sheaf of paper, and that had Theron hesitating anew. Though he had faced all manner of challenges, killed an Archdemon and saved Ferelden, the opposition posed by this singular letter seemed the most insurmountable by far.

Would his lover dismiss him with a few short words? Or would he offer the chance to reconcile? Dare he open it?

He touched the glossy black wax, lingering over the insignia before finally mustering the courage to break it, to gently part the fine fold of paper and read the short message scrawled within.

Zevran had always spoken self-mockingly of his penmanship, had said that the Crows had taught him to kill cleanly, but little else. His writing was only barely legible, and even that was a kind word for it. But as Theron read, he felt his heart twist at the familiar hand that had made the marks, the sensitive rendering of the words.

In many ways, Zevran's writing was an perfect expression of the man himself. Theron skimmed the letter a second time and felt his heart quake, registering the meaning now that he no longer focused on the hand that written the words.

Folding the letter shut with trembling hands, he offered another small treat to the crow that was waiting patiently nearby.

"I'll give you my response soon enough." He promised, "Why don't you get a bit of a rest now?"

He needed to tell Lavellan, had to tell her of the letter and what it would mean for the two of them. Inhaling slowly, Theron tried to regain control of his senses, to remember to _think_ as well as feel. There was little doubt of his own contentment, and yet, there was a bittersweet taste of his victory too, for in encouraging him Lavellan had made herself vulnerable.

Had left herself bound to an outcome outside of her own control.

Theron was not blind to his feelings, and he knew well enough that he cared deeply for the elven woman. It was not unrealistic to think that with time they might come to love one another. But in allowing him the freedom to send that message, by providing the courage needed for the task, she had ultimately brought about a premature end to their relationship.

That was, if he did go through with her suggestion.

Part of him wondered if he should savor Zevran's message of forgiveness and accept it as just that. There would be no need to pursue his lover to Antiva, or whatever distant land he chose to journey to. Instead he could stay here, in Wycome, with the courageous elven heroine and her three sons, build a family together.

They could almost be unremarkable then, the two of them, the _five_ of them. After years of being the exception, Theron craved normalcy. He knew Lavellan felt the same.

But she had been right about him, about how he felt about Zevran, more than she probably knew. And though there was guilt, he owed her the truth and a debt of gratitude the likes of which he had did not think he would be able to pay off.

And so it was that he crossed the small footbridge, crested that final hill and found himself nearly there, at Lavellan's house. But before he could quite make it to her doorstep something made him pause, or rather _someone_, for there was a man working in the yard despite the early hour. And what Theron found when he looked closer made a smile tug the corner of his mouth, eased the tension in his chest.

He had never formally met Lavellan's lover, but there was no mistaking the man who was so meticulously tending to the little garden outside her home. Approaching slowly, the hunter took time to assess the man, to really _see_.

Tall, broad shouldered, the older elven man moved with the sort of easy grace that came with being comfortable in their own skin. And though Theron could not be sure, there was an undercurrent of something dangerous beneath that distinct air of calm he projected so easily.

"Hello." The man straightened smoothly when Theron was drew close, expression unscrutable in the early light.

"Good morning." Theron greeted the man, "Beautiful morning is it not?"

The man smiled sedatedly, but his eyes were sharp, bright with awareness.

"Are you here to see the Inquisitor?" he asked, "My apologies, she is currently sleeping."

Theron's brows rose, it was unlike her to be resting despite the hour. Dalish life often meant early rising, and the lady hero had always made it a point to remain carefully honed.

Had something kept her awake late into the night? He did not think she had spent the night with her lover in '_that_' sense, but she had been increasingly worried as of late. Theron frowned.

"Lavellan is still sleeping?"

The familiarity in his voice, the manner in which Theron used her name was deliberate, and he knew the other man understood his insinuation when his lips turned into a slight frown.

"Forgive me." Blue eyes narrowed slightly, "I do not think we've met."

"Ah." Theron smiled, "Apologies, I am Theron of Clan Sabrae. And you are?"

"Solas." The man said plainly, folding his hands carefully behind him.

"Lavellan's lover." Theron identified though he had known from the start, "I've heard of you, though she's been protective of your identity."

"She and I ended that particular part of our relationship some time ago." The man, _Solas_, said patiently.

"I see." Theron nodded, feeling the amusement bubble when the man's careful wording. He was very much like Lavellan, and his mannerisms told Theron well enough the attraction was, at least on his side, far from over.

Sensing that he had an opportunity, a chance to play with fire, Theron grinned, it was time to needle in the name of friendship. Lavellan might not appreciate it until later, but the chance to get some answers was too good to pass up.

"Then you would have no qualms if I wished to claim her as my bondmate?" He asked casually.

The older man stiffened, and Theron might have smiled at the look that passed over the man's face.

"If she would have you." Solas' words were those of a friend, despite the tightening of the man's shoulders. "The matter would be between the two of you of course."

"And _you_ would have no opinion?" Theron pressed. "You are the father to her sons are you not?"

"I am, and shall continue to be." Solas said patiently, "But I'll not stand in your way, if that is what your concern is."

"And you would not object to my rearing your children?"

The man seemed to grow increasingly more still, "I trust Lavellan's judgment. "

Theron smiled widely, "Excellent. Thank you."

They lapsed into silence shortly thereafter, Solas returning to his gardening and Theron waiting patiently by the gate. Neither one seemed keen on leaving, on running away, and yet despite their silence, the air seemed to grow increasingly more charged with temper.

_Did he really have to attack at the weeds so viciously? T_heron wondered idly, watching Solas' continued assault on the unwanted parts of Lavellan's garden, _Need he frown at them so ferociously that they wilted before he struck them from the ground?_

And yet, Theron could not be happier with the unsettled state of his companion. Because in his anger, there was an honesty, a frustration that Theron suspected ran much deeper, one borne of the love he carried for Lavellan.

It was this same love that eventually brought the question to the other man's lips, tight and untrusting, rife with protective instinct.

"What is it that you like so much about her, about Lavellan?"

The words were said with such careful precision, that Solas might as well have waved a flag declaring his continued affection for the woman. It was no wonder both of them had remained unhappy, they were stubborn to a fault, and desperate to be 'friends' despite the fact their hearts were clearly bound more tightly together than any other pair of lovers Theron had ever known.

"Like about her?" Theron repeated as if he were confused, "What is not to like? She is beautiful is she not?"

The last bit he spoke with a touch of arrogance, as if he thought it the most obvious trait that a man might find desirable. It was precisely the correct, or perhaps incorrect, thing to say, for in that moment he finally saw Solas' temper unmasked, saw the fury in that man's bright blue gaze.

"If her _beauty_ is the first thing you think of, then perhaps it is best you leave her well alone." Solas snapped as he rounded, straightening to his full height.

"Oh?"

"Lavellan may be many things. And while beautiful is certainly one of them, it is perhaps the least of her qualities. Any man who looks at her and sees beauty before any of her other talents is a blind man indeed."

"And what of these other traits?" Theron taunted, "A hunter needs to be strong, swift, but her?" he shrugged, "She is a mother now."

"You use a role she had chosen as a means to reduce her. But you could not have been more wrong." Solas looked almost murderous, "She is subtle and insightful. She is a woman of grace, of such bravery that it would make all the hunters of the Dalish look like cowards had they but tried to face the opposition she conquered."

He exhaled sharply as he continued, "And she is kind. More generous to people then they deserve, than they have any right to expect. She chose to become a mother, and her sons are a testament to her skill, her _strength_, the love she is so capable of."

The man folded his arms, "But when you look at her, you see her beauty, and the shallowness of that remark does you no credit."

Solas nearly vibrated with the strength of his emotion.

"You do not deserve her." he said, "And I would face your Dalish Creator's single-handedly before allowing one as unworthy as you to dare be her companion. She is stronger without you."

Theron smiled, "You know, for a man who says he has no claim on her, you certainly sound rather like you do."

And before Solas could make another scathing remark about him, Theron turned to look over the man's shoulder.

"Wouldn't you agree, Lavellan?"

Solas turned to find her standing there in the doorway, hands clutching her shawl around her shoulders. She looked him in the eye, and though her face was pale, color rode high on her cheeks.

"Solas?"

"I- " The man looked stunned, shocked into stillness as his words continued to echo around the three of them. Stark, angry, protective, he had revealed much with his words.

Too much.

Unable to stand it, he said turned and left without a word, his hands still dark with dirt, expression lost as he hurried away.

"Why did you do that?" Lavellan looked as if she wanted to follow Solas, and her eyes lingered in the direction where he had fled.

"Why did you bait him like that?" She asked as she frowned, "That was unkind Theron."

"It was. And yet, can you tell me that his words did not at least ease your heart even the slightest bit?"

He approached her, gently touched her chin so that she might look at him, "Solas seems to be rather desperately in love with you. So what is keeping the two of you apart? Stubbornness?"

"I've told you, he has a mission to accomplish; a path that he insists will lead away from us."

"And yet he loves you." Theron smiled, "Were you not the one who said such things were strong enough to do the impossible?"

"It is not the same." Lavellan protested, "And that is why I told you to write to Zevran, to leave my own situation out of your decision making."

And then she seemed to realize why he had shown up at her house at this hour, the reason that was not pestering her lover in the garden.

"You've received a response." She said, brightening, "Zevran replied to your letter."

Theron nodded, "Indeed."

She remained silent, and in that quiet she watched as Theron's expression bloomed, the smile on his lips a softer, gentler expression that spoke of the depth of his happiness.

"_Oh_ _Theron_." Her eyes misted with tears, "I am so happy for you, my friend."

She was in his arms a moment later, hugging him with all the strength in her arms as he returned the gesture with equal fierceness. Face pressed the top of her hair, he spoke, his voice hoarse, more serious now than any time she had heard before.

"It was because of you, Lavellan." He gently drew back enough to give her a look of deepest appreciation, "Thank _you_, lethallan."

"You are most welcome." Her lips trembled, "I could not have asked for better news."

Theron grinned, "Nonsense. I delivered better news to you not a moment ago. Or did you not hear that I have just confirmed, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that your man there is just as smitten with you and you are with him?"

"Theron." She protested, but her face flushed anew, "That was unfair to him."

The man snorted, "I thought he might strike me down when I played at being shallow. It may have been unfair to him, but I assure you, it was more dangerous for me."

She laughed, "Then perhaps you are having a lucky day."

Theron grinned, "So it is settled then. I will remain here until after the Arlathvhen, but shall we agree that our...match, has been set aside?"

"Yes." Lavellan squeezed his hand, "And thank you Theron."

His brows raised, "Whatever for, my dear?"

She smiled, "For being my friend."

He shook his head, "That will never be a hardship."

Then, gesturing with his hands, he said, "Now go find that man of yours."

But now it was _she_ who paused, hesitated.

"Are you truly going to make me drag you to him?" Theron teased.

"I-" She looked down, swallowed, "I'm afraid."

"No man will love you as deeply as that one." Theron said, "It will not be lack of trying on their part, but I think that in loving you, Solas has lost a piece of his heart and no amount of stubbornness on his part is going to return it. He _loves_ you Lavellan. Perhaps it is time to figure out if you love him as well."

He touched her cheek, "But I think we both know you do."

She sighed but nodded.

"Will you look after the boys for me?" She asked, "Cole, my oldest, knows what to do. But I would appreciate it if you could answer their questions, if they have any. I'll be back soon."

"Yes, of course." Theron smiled, "Now go and find him, Lavellan. Creator's guide you."

Solas could barely think past the rage.

It had abated some since he had left her house, but even now it simmered below the surface with a sort of sustained power that could not be entirely attributed to the Fen'harel legacy.

Striving for calm, he tried to shrug off the temper but could not quite shake the desire to clench his hands into tights fists, to squeeze until his nails bit into his palms. And while he might have claimed the anger as belonging to that same legacy he recognized the jealousy as _his_ and his alone.

Turning the corner, Solas forced the breath from him lungs in slow, steady stream, slowing suddenly when he found himself in a narrow albeit sunkissed alleyway, lush with climbing plants and wild blossoms.

It was beautiful, this little patch of wildness amidst the more purposeful smattering of buildings and walls. A pleasant surprise that eased the tension in his chest just enough to be allow his to breathe more clearly.

Reaching out to caress a deep green fern with a fingertip, he sighed anew when introspection replaced the hot pulse of anger.

He had no right to be jealous. In the past few months both he and Lavellan had worked hard to repair the relationship between them, had found a quiet friendship emerge from the ashes of distrust. It was more than he expected, more than he deserved, and he dared not compromise what they had built by what emotion lingered in his chest.

There had already been too many moments of weakness, of wanting what could not be had. He closed his eyes, trying to chase away the bitter chill of loneliness with the warm tenderness of the sunshine.

"Solas."

And for the second time that day Solas found himself surprised. Turning, he looked and found her just beyond the reach of his own arms, standing in a pool of light, almost glowing.

_Beautiful_. And yet, she was so much more than that, was everything Solas had confessed to earlier.

"Hello, Lavellan." He tried to smile, but the expression seemed clumsy on his lips. She seemed to understand, and when she stepped closer, reaching out to touch his hand, he realized that she meant to apologize.

"I'm sorry about what happened with Theron. I did not realize he would do that, and despite what he said, he is not a bad man."

He made a soft snort, "No, I imagine he is not. But he is still young, some things that matter in youth mean very little later on."

Sighing, he patted her hand, "I've told you once before, Lavellan. I wish you all the happiness for your future."

She opened her mouth to respond, but seemed to change her mind. Instead, she looked down at where their hands were touching and asked a different question.

"Do you trust me to know my own heart?"

"Of course, I trust you to know your heart better than anyone." His own ached in his chest, "But there are those that would do you no justice. You deserve better."

"I _deserve_ to be _happy_." She said tartly, "And that will be in a match of my own choosing, no?"

He nodded, swallowed tightly as Theron's face came to mind. And while his heart rebelled, his lips formed the words of a friend, "Yes, of course."

"Then answer me this." Lavellan said softly, "Could you...that is, do you love me still?"

Her question electrified the space between them but he remained silent. And in that quiet he looked at her in that way that reminded her of the night before, of all those truths he had told, the pain and guilt of a young man who carried the burden of a difficult legacy.

She stepped closer, into his shadow, hands skimming up the sides of his arms until they rested upon the strong set of his shoulder. Then, feeling him absorb the touch, she lifted her hands upward so that she could cup his cheek with her palm.

"Solas?"

"My thoughts and feelings remain as they were." His voice was rough, his eyes burning like blue flame as he looked down at her, "But so do the obstacles. You have your duty and-"

"My _duty_ to the Inquisition is _over_, Solas." She interrupted with a whisper, "I've chosen to step aside."

"The Mark persists," He protested, "Surely-"

But in that moment she rose gracefully to her toes, arms curling around his neck and with infinite gentleness brushed her lips against his own, silencing him with the press of her mouth, the restrained heat of her touch.

He made a small helpless sound in the back of his throat when his control strained, his hands clenching at his sides as he tried to hold onto each fraying thread. But when she moved her head just so, made that soft little noise he recognized, he was lost.

Arms closing around her, his hand dove into her hair as he cradled her closer, angling her face, her mouth, so that he might delve deeper, taste more.

It was everything he had missed, everything he had dreamt about for years.

And yet his memories had not done her justice, for the sweetness of her lips was beyond anything he could recall, the feel of her back in his arms once more so absolutely right that he trembled with the force of his heart's joy.

He wished it would last for the rest of eternity.

"Lavellan!"

A voice, sharp and angry made them both snap up to look at the speaker, arms still twined around one another. But it was Solas' own instincts that compelled him to step between her and the man that was advancing on their position.

A mage, the stranger's magic flared at his fingertips, danced off the glittering metal on his rings. But it was not until Lavellan's startled gasp rang in his ear that Solas realized he knew the man as well.

"Dorian?!"


	37. Worthy

AN: Hello my dears! Here is the next chapter! A lot of you were excited about big brother Dorian so I hope I delivered :)

Thanks again to all those following/reading/reviewing - you make this entirely worth it!

As an aside I do use the phase "cold day in hell" in this chapter - I understand this would be technically incorrect in Thedas but all the equivalents I could think of did not convey that same amount of temper or make the point as immediately. If anyone had an alternative that they want to offer up please let me know!

Update: 7/22 - thanks to those that reviewed and pointed out the cut off sentences (Alliel 23 I'm looking at you)! I've done my best to give this one a bit of an edit so I hope it reads more fluidly now. Thanks darlings!

Best,

~Voi

* * *

Dorian arrived with all the fury of a hurricane, the flash and burn of a wildfire. And while Solas knew he was more than capable of dealing both elements, he was not prepared for the _physical_ retaliation. The Tevinter had never been one to throw a punch but it seemed some things did change with time. When Solas' head snapped back with the force of the unexpected blow it was only Lavellan's position behind him that prevented him from crashing to the ground.

"Dorian, _don't_!"

Pushing herself between them, her eyes lingered just long enough for Solas to know she worried.

Wincing as he straightened, Solas wiped the corner of his mouth where it was already beginning to bloom purple, and directed a flash of ice and healing to quell the swelling. Dorian looked unmoved by the display, indeed his dark eyes seemed almost murderous.

"You can hit me a second time if it makes you feel better." Solas said drolly, "Though I should warn you that I will heal that one too."

"Stop it you two." Lavellan's tone was firm, but three years of animosity meant her protest went nearly unheard.

"Don't condescend to me, you prick" the tevinter mage snarled, "I want to burn you in the fatty substance of your own arrogance, your _ego_, but I fear it would never go out and we'd be forced to watch you burn like a candle until all of Thedas came to an end."

Solas smiled coldly, "Pretty insults? I do believe this may be yet another thing Tevinter has appropriated from the ancient elves."

"You _bastard_." The mage snarled, and this time the staff in his hand glittered with gathered magic, snapping with equal temper and outrage. But it was the green glow of the Mark, the sudden oppressive power that _she_ wielded, that put an end to their fight.

"That. Is. _Enough._"

Fury made her words short, and when they both looked at her, they found her rigid with an anger of her own, expression tight and more menacing than either one could muster.

"I am _not_ invisible." Lavellan said forcibly, "So do not dare pretend I am. I will not have you fighting one another, not while I yet breathe, so stop this nonsense _immediately_."

And though her words were sharp, the magic she had used to gain their attention dissipated shortly thereafter, leaving her to stand between them, a demure figure between two towering heights.

It was only when Solas' hands came out to steady her, returning her own gesture of support that she realized she was trembling.

"Would you really have used the mark on us, darling?" Dorian asked after a time, asking not so much to get an answer but rather give everyone time to stow what might have remained of their anger.

His question only served to make her frown deepen, "Of course not. But with the two of you acting like _children_, it seemed that only mutual death would shake you out of it."

"Ah, well then. Nicely done, I do believe it worked." There was a flash of a smile on his lips, lighting his handsome face, "Wouldn't you agree, Solas?"

The elven man nodded as he slowly eased away, allowing her the space to find her feet. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw his gaze was shuttered to her own probing look, and knew there would be more to discuss between them later.

"Dorian-" She began, but her friend cut her off.

"Cassandra is looking for you."

His words were the sort to instill the fear of the Creators themselves. Cassandra remained a force of nature, impressive even in the midst of this peace time.

"She has a letter from the Advisors and refuses to leave until she speaks with you. Said it was _important_." The mage sighed, "You best not keep her waiting, hmm?"

"I-" Lavellan paused, meeting the man's gaze squarely, "You are _not_ to hit Solas again."

"Very well." Dorian answered easily.

"Or set him on fire...or whatever other magical loophole you're thinking off. All of it must stop now before I go."

Her friend sighed.

Lavellan frowned, "Promise me, Dorian."

"Very well. On my honor as your best friend, I promise Solas will come to no harm by my hand for as long as I am in the city."

They both knew that would be as close to a promise as she would be getting. And so, with but a lingering look at the man who stood over her shoulder, she disappeared down the alleyway.

No sooner had Lavellan turned the corner when Dorian rounded on the elven man. Solas did not look remotely worried, but his eyes flashed in an equal show of temper.

"Listen to me very carefully," Dorian said, voice low and dangerous, "Because I will only say this once for your benefit."

His face twisted into such a wintery expression he seemed almost carved of ice despite the fire of his gaze.

"If you ever consider touching her again, if you so much as even _think_ about stepping back into her life again, let me tell you now - _don't._"

When Solas remained silent, stubbornly so, Dorian continued, his voice dropping into a low growl.

"When you disappeared, I was the one who picked up the broken pieces, heard the garbage you fed her to make yourself feel better."

"'Another world' you said-" Dorian _snarled_, " Well let me tell you that you are _not_ some _special snowflake_. And in this world she is my best friend, the only one in the world truly, and it will be a cold day in hell before I allow you to even get the _chance_ to hurt her the way you did before. I'll see you _dead_ first."

The silence in that moment was charged, electrified with the potential for an explosion. The two of them had always had a strained relationship, but there was a open hostility now that spoke of how deeply they were both invested in the singular woman who was both friend and lover.

"And what about what Lavellan wants?" Solas asked quietly.

"I think it's a little late for you to care about what she wants." Dorian snapped.

The elven man went entirely still, "You may not like the idea, but that kiss you just saw was initiated by her."

"And I bet you _loved that_ didn't you?" Dorian rebuffed, "After all the pain she suffered at your hands, have you no shame?"

The Tevinter laughed, but it was a nasty, angry thing, "Or is it that you think yourself still in love?"

"What I _feel_ is none of your business." Solas snapped.

"Your arrogance." Dorian growled, "She's told you nothing has she? And like a fool you've not bothered to look deeper. You profess to love her above all others, but I wonder did you ever wonder at the things she didn't tell you."

A memory of an earlier conversation floated to the surface. Lavellan's reluctance to talk about the boys, their birth. The only secret she had kept, the single detail she had not shared with him.

Solas narrowed his eyes, "You're speaking of the twins."

"You cannot love what you do not know. You want to call her 'vhenan' and profess to love her? _Be my guest._ But you know _nothing_ about the woman she has become - if I have my way you will never have a chance to find out. "

When Solas fell to silence, Dorian sighed in disgust.

"If you truly care about her, have the decency to leave her alone. But if you want to be a real bastard about it, to stay by her side, then take the time to learn what happened in your absence. Maybe then you'll understand why you're better off gone."

That night, it was Dorian rather than Solas who came to call upon her. Having just sent Theron back to his own clan, she was still smiling from his animated conversation when she opened the door and found her best friend waiting for her.

"I had wondered when you might appear."

Ducking into the small space, he was greeted with the excited chirping of the twins, and even Cole had cause to be excited when Dorian gifted him a particularly lovely Ferelden-style hat. It was fur trimmed and terribly unsuited to the current heat, but Cole loved it almost instantly, pausing only long enough to make sure that no animal had been harmed in the creation of said hat before putting it upon his head.

Looking at her children as they played, Lavellan's lips twisted into a smile, "I knew there was a reason you were their favorite."

Dorian laughed, "What can I say? I am a delight to the senses, even children know that."

"Did you get _me_ anything?" She teased.

"You mean besides my glittering self?" Dorian's brows rose.

She laughed, "You're entirely correct. Forgive me, anything else would be_ too much_."

Following dinner Lavellan and Dorian spent their time chatting, watching the boys play between them as they went over the events of the day.

"Cassandra nearly refused my stepping down." Lavellan explained with a smile, "I don't think I've ever heard that grunt of disgust so many times in a single afternoon."

Dorian grinned, sipping his warm beverage, "Try traveling with her...the woman may claim to distance herself from nobility, but she has the riding manner of a princess."

His words drew a long lingering smile, one that lasted until Lavellan looked at the almost untangled knot of her necklace on her lap.

"The advisors were supportive." She mused, "So I think Cass may have to accept that she will be my replacement when the time comes."

"And when is _that_ exactly my dear?" Dorian asked, watching as the shadows danced upon their faces.

"Sooner rather than later. In the next few weeks if I can manage it." Lavellan wiggled a silken silver string, tugged at it just so, and watched as the last knot came undone, leaving nothing but individual threads on her lap.

"Oh." She went silent then, eyes locked on all that remained, "I guess I worked faster than I thought."

There was something in her manner that made Dorian want to speak, to prompt her and explain herself. But before he could get a word in Numinehn appeared at her side, eyes bright as he saw the neat little strings.

"You finished?!" He sounded thrilled, excited, "May I have them now, mamae?"

Lavellan looked at her son blankly for a long moment, long enough that he began to frown in concern.

"Mamae?" His uneasy reiteration of her name was met with a sudden jolt. And with a small oath of apology, she scooped up the strings and pressed it into his pudgy fist.

"I am sorry my love," she said, pressing a kiss to his brow, "I was thinking about something and got entirely too distracted. Yes of course you can have them."

Dorian waited until she had put the children in bed before he spoke up about her lapse, concern filling the very corners of his voice.

"Lavellan, what in the name of the Maker is going on?"

She settled beside him and cocked her head, "Hmm?"

"That moment earlier...and then before in the square. I feel like I've returned to that horrid alternate reality we stumbled upon when we were fighting Alexius."

"Perhaps this is you being angry with me?" She suggested, "It has been a while since we've stood on opposite sides of opinion."

Dorian sighed, smiled despite his earlier outburst.

"I am hardly angry darling. I think it would be more appropriate to say I am surprised. Wouldn't you?"

Lavellan looked at him guiltily as she continued.

"Last I heard Solas was _missing_ and you were on your way to visit your clan for 'personal reasons'"

"I know", Lavellan sighed, "I ended up...well, it is a bit of a story."

"We have time." Dorian said patiently, "Unless you would rather not?"

"It's not that," She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, "It was just a lot...I can hardly believe it myself."

And then she began to speak, to recount the series of events that had transpired since her departure from the keep. It started easily enough, she spoke fluidly, and although the story was one of turbulence, she cut through it in a timely manner, with precision.

It was only when she reached that moment Solas appeared that Dorian noted the way she hesitated, slowed to the point of almost ceasing her explanation altogether.

"What is it, darling?"

He asked when she fell silent for a particularly lengthy amount of time.

"You and I have never had secrets from one another." She said slowly, "And I am trying to find the best way to explain this next part though it is a difficult one."

"Is it about Solas' secrets?" Dorian guessed.

There was a flash upon her lips, a glimmer of gratefulness that spoke of their friendship and his ability to know her so well.

"You need not tell them to me, love." Dorian said, "I have no interest in that man other than how he might affect you."

She sighed, "That's just it. It is this rather large secret that does impact me, even more than that, it impacts the twins."

Dorian went still, "Oh?"

Her hands twisted in her lap, "I need you to make me another promise, Dorian. A serious one that you must keep, until the world itself ends if need be."

There was a beat of silence, as dark honey colored eyes met her own bright ones in the dim firelight.

"I promise, my dear. As your friend, your _best_ _friend_, what you tell me next will never pass my lips." And then, because he could, he cast a spell, one that was all too common in Tevinter and yet so rare elsewhere.

Watching the glitter of his magic fade from the air, Lavellan blinked, "What spell was that?"

"A minor binding." Dorian smiled, "It will keep my secrets, and by extension, _your_ secrets entirely inaccessible by those that might otherwise attempt to draw them out."

"Will it harm you in any way?" She worried.

"Not at all." He reassured, "Now tell your secrets."

And so she did, and in the process changed his perception of their world forever. Indeed, it was he who was left speechless at the end of it, stunned beyond words for perhaps the first time in his life.

Yet even his discovery could not change the way he sought to protect her. If anything, the words just fueled his temper, his displeasure on her behalf.

"You mean to tell me that he was..._is_ a god, and he ran away at the first sign of trouble?"

Lavellan protested, "It is not like that. And he is not a _god_, so much as a really powerful mage."

"A powerful mage who apparently has yet to learn that running away from problems is not the way to solve them." Dorian replied snarkily, "That does not take courage, darling. Did he ever explain to you why he had to leave?"

"No. Not in as many words, though he did explain his origins, the _difficulties_ of such things."

Dorian watched as her expression crumbled.

"I suspect I love him still." She confessed, "A friend mentioned it the other day and I think I've known it to be true for much longer than that."

Her friend looked at her, his expression a mirror for all the pain they had carried together.

"Have you forgotten the years you were left alone? " He wondered aloud, "No- _nevermind_. You know better than anyone how you suffered. I'm not going to dredge that up just to make my point."

His hands landed on her shoulders, "I love you like a sister, call you my best friend because that is _what you are_. So please treat yourself like it too. I don't want to see you get hurt again."

Her eyes filled, "I... "

The tears fell for the first time that evening, large drops that slid from the corners and burned trails down her cheeks.

"You have a large heart, dearest. But has he ever asked you about what happened in his absence?"

Dorian sighed, hand coming up to gently wipe away the tears that clung to the fringe of her eyelashes.

"His own secrets do not mean that he gets a free pass. Did he ever ask what happened to you, about the years when he was away?"

Her lips lifted in a watery smile, "He did actually. In the beginning. I..." She sighed, "I gave him the facts, little else."

"Then why did he look so confused when I mentioned the birth of the twins?" He pressed.

Lavellan flushed, "I refused to tell him when he first asked, we were very much at odds then."

Dorian sighed, "Well apparently _that_ has changed, hmm?"

She nodded slowly.

"Then my dear, it may be worth explaining everything."

"What if I'm not brave enough to relive that memory?" She asked quietly.

Dorian's arms came around her then, hugging her into his chest, the feeling familiar and reassuring. It had been _this_ man who had remained by her side over the years, who had seen her through the darkest part of her life and stood beside her. He had refused invitations from the noble houses in Tevinter, had turned down a particularly lucrative marriage proposal from an Antivan nobleman and even helped rear her children. He was her best friend, and she valued his opinion above all others. Even Theron, with whom she had found an instant and undeniable connection, would be hard pressed to measure up.

"My dear you are plenty brave. But I wonder if your hesitation is not so much rooted in lack of courage as it is a sign that you do not trust him with the truth."

Dorian drew back, met her gaze with a steady smile of his own.

"Whether you choose to call yourself Inquisitor or not is entirely up to _you_. But it was _your_ strength that saw us through that gauntlet, Lavellan. You have the heart of a high dragon. The question whether you think Solas is _worthy_ of that heart."


	38. Ties

AN: Hello my lovelies! Life has been crazy the past two weeks but I wanted to get this to you all before it was 2+ weeks without an update. I promise to respond to all of your lovely comments and questions next chapter - you have no idea how wonderful it's been to hear from you all.

This fic now has around 300 followers so it's all thanks to you, I am so very humbled by your support.

All the best!

~Voi

* * *

Solas woke up to utter carnage.

Bodies, too many to count, lay strewn around the field, pale forms all but glowing in the moonlight. But the blood glowed too, and the stickiness with which it clung to his hands, up his arms and mouth, turned his stomach.

The tang of iron on his lips made him nauseous, and he staggered away, vision still clouded by this nightmare made reality. It was more luck than actual direction that found him at the water's edge, ankle deep in a river so cold it nearly burned.

_Good, but not quite good enough._

He sank to his knees in haste, hands cupping the precious liquid so that he might use it to clean the mess from his body. With each frigid handful he felt himself grow a little bit less bloody, but that did not necessarily mean he felt any cleaner.

Shivering now, from the water, from the horror that continued to mount, Solas forced himself to remain where he was. And though he tried, his attempts to clear the muddied state of his mind seemed in vain.

No matter how many times he blinked there was no forgetting those images. One in particular remained as stark and damning as ever, and it was this one he found himself returning to over and over again.

Sleek white form, broken horns, those familiar dark eyes. The female halla from before, the one who had flirted with danger not several weeks earlier. Gone, dead.

_His fault, his responsibility._

From just beyond her prone body he had watched helplessly as her young, twin fawns, bleated piteously over the too-still form of their mother.

He returned to reality with a shudder and found his hands devoid of blood, almost blue from the cold. But even then they remained bloodied in his mind, bright red with his guilt. No amount of scrubbing would make them clean again.

"Solas?"

Her presence surprised him, startled him, and he looked up to find the night long gone, the day bathed in the golden glow of sunlight. He sighed when he felt the warm press of her fingers against his chilled skin, felt his heart shudder in relief that she did not shy away from him.

"Are you unwell?" She touched the back of her hand to his brow, easing the deep lines with her tenderness, "You seem most pale."

And when he remained silent, she gently turned his head one way and then the other, examining him for injury. It was only then that Solas realized he was nowhere near that icy stream, was actually back at his cottage in the middle of the forest, surrounded by trees on all sides.

There was no death to be found, no killing field full of bodies.

He had fallen asleep, and that nightmarish scene had been just that, _a nightmare._

"Solas?" Lavellan knelt so that she could look him in the eye, and touched his cheek. "You're _trembling_."

Despite her concern, Solas' lips curved into the smallest of smiles, "My apologies."

"I did not mention it so that you might apologize for it." She protested, her expression of exasperation, "I am worried for you."

He reached down so that he might lace hand with her own, savoring the way they fit so perfectly together.

"I know." He said, pressing a soft kiss upon her fingertips, "I am thankful for it, you cannot know how deeply, but I am."

And when she made no protest, he tried his luck, leaning forward as he cupped her face in his hands, seeking that soft press of lips to lips. They had yet to finish their earlier conversation, so he kept his touch light, but there was no denying the rush, the sweeping pleasure that came with that kiss. And though the intimacy lasted for the shortest amount of time, it left them both flushed and shy.

It did not quite chase away the horrors of that nightmare, but it was a potent balm nonetheless.

"I know we have yet to talk," Lavellan said softly, "But I must admit that I had missed that..missed _you_."

Smiling faintly, Solas brushed the hair behind her ears, lingered there, feeling his heart ache as he replied honestly, "As had I."

"Shall we speak tonight?" She pressed, "We have much to do now...but in the evening?"

"Yes." He nodded, "We are to talk to the blacksmith now are we not? The one who does the work of June."

She smiled anew, nodded. And together they made their way towards the city center, towards the one hope they had of stopping a beast that Solas worried was growing too strong too soon.

"I know what it is you need, what you describe."

The blacksmith was not how Lavellan had envisioned. Tall and with the coloring of the mountainous Anders people, the fact that she was not an elf was as unexpected as it amusing. A human who made elven crafts better than the clans, Lavellan grinned as she saw Solas' face. Truly the gods worked in strange ways.

And June's lineage could not have been any clearer, for all of the woman's works bore that familiar sigil, the pattern handed down from master artisan to apprentice and back.

Asha, the blacksmith, wiped her hands on her thick apron and sighed, "The work itself is not complex, but even if I craft it, you would need to find the stones to join the pieces together."

Before her both elves frowned in confusion.

"Could you describe the work for us again please?" Lavellan asked, "I am not entirely sure I understand."

"Of course." Asha nodded, "We call it 'The Tie That Binds.'"

She pulled the image from her book of designs, spread it out so that the couple might see it in better detail, "It had a word, a proper name, among the ancients, but whatever it was has long since been lost. Still, its function is clear. This tie binds the wearers together so that regardless of circumstance the two may share an unbreakable bond, may even cheat _death _if used under the right conditions...at least, that is the rumor."

Pointing to the schematic, she traced the two tokens with a finger and continued.

"The tie works between this pair of charms. One for each of you. I'll be using the same metal compound, the same heating techniques, and for the entire process I'll keep them together. But in order for this to work we need to find a pair of complementary stones - gems really. The stronger the better."

"Complimentary stones?" Solas leaned forward as he considered the work, "So this is not unlike the charms used by the people of Rivain."

"Exactly. Though I imagine this technique predate those by a few Ages." Asha smiled, "The runes will activate in the metal only if the gems have a natural affinity for one another. They can act a simple binding amulets on their own, but for your purposes you would need the pair. And again, the stronger you want that tie the more you'll have to hunt for those stones."

"We need that binding as strong as possible, unbreakable if such a thing exists." Lavellan said, lips twisting into a frown, "What sort of stones would you recommend?"

"Unbreakable?" Asha grinned, "Sounds like you two have some serious work ahead of you then. The only stones I know of with that sort of staying power are the ones assigned to the Twins."

"You mean Falon'din and Dirthamen?" Solas asked.

"Just so. Some said they were of the same spirit, and the stones that carry their name are equally as strong."

Asha gestured to where the clan storyteller was entertaining the group of children, "I understand there's even a story about the stones...mentions Dirthamen's Shadow and Falon'din Reflection."

"Each one defined by the other." Lavellan nodded, "Truly those would be the stones strong enough for our cause. When would you need the gems?"

"My ability to craft the Tie are not bound to the gems. I may craft it now and deliver the tokens to you in the evening. The stones may be placed within them whenever you find the stones worthy enough for your cause."

"Is there anything else we should know?" Solas asked.

"Just one." Asha said, "These charms work best when attached to something you already carry. Something that yet binds the two of you together."

"I understand."

Lavellan thought then about the threads of her necklace unwound and unraveled, given to her son just the night before. Perhaps she could find something else, some other token between them, but even as she considered it she knew that it was futile.

The only question was what to do now.

And as for the gems, well, it seemed that luck had favored them once more, for Dorian was an expert of amulets, and if anyone were to know the location of such rare gems it would be him. Thus with nothing more save a confirmation of their order and a promise to see one another shortly, Solas and Lavellan left Asha to her work.

It was on their way back that they ran into a familiar face. But there was a seriousness to his expression, and it was not until he waved, albeit wearily, that Lavellan recognized him as her friend.

"Theron?"

Stepping forward, voice dipping in worry when she caught the grim set of his lips, she felt the mark on her palm itch when she recognized the very specific braids that bound his hair back. They were hunter braids, something was not right.

"What has happened?" There was no missing the wickedly carved bow that rested against the man's back, but she asked anyway.

"Has there been an attack of some sort?"

The man's lips were pressed together in a stark line, "Yes, on the halla. Some sort of beast found them last night, our guards did not notice until this morning."

Lavellan felt Solas grow rigid beside her, and she touched his arm in concern, knowing he must feel the shock as surely as she did.

Theron's expression darkened, "It was more a slaughter if we're going to be honest. But whatever it was that did this it spared the little ones. Still, there are now orphans aplenty."

He gestured to behind him to where several other hunters were trying to coax the younglings to eat, to do more than cry so piteously. It was clear they had been trying for a while, for all of their faces were lined with an empathy that was making them nearly heartsick.

Solas felt this throat tighten, guilt coiling like a noose around his neck.

"You look disturbed," Theron said, as he watched them both, "I apologize, that was not my intent. But as you can see, it is a grim business. Please be careful when you return to your homes this evening. Whatever caused this is likely still out there."

And then, with a nod and a gesture of safe journeys, the couple was left to their devices. It was not until they were alone again that Lavellan gently drew her companion's attention away from where he yet lingered over the young.

"Solas?" Lavellan touched his arm, and felt the weight of something settle upon her shoulders when he looked at her with such sad eyes.

"Forgive me, Lavellan." He tried to smile but the expression died before it could reach his lips, "That was...it was not right, what happened."

"No." She looked at him sadly, "But Theron is a hunter of quality, he will protect those left, may even find the creature responsible in time."

Solas nodded mutely, passing hand over his face as if he was trying to wipe the image from his mind. Unfortunately it seemed to do little, and he remained grim, brow furrowed deeply in thought.

"I..." He swallowed, "I need to get my thoughts in order for tonight. Might we part ways for the moment?"

She looked surprised but nodded nonetheless, squeezing his hand briefly.

"You know where I will be," She said softly, and then she too was turning to go, walking down the path though she looked back to watching him, to wonder why it was he seemed to shaken when he had seen so much worse.

When she returned to her home she found Dorian and her sons precisely as she had left them, playing chess with all the solemnity of the grand masters themselves.

It had come as no small surprise that Cole was too kind to win, and often went to very strange lengths to make sure his brothers enjoys the spoils of victory. But of the twins it was Numinehn rather than Era'fen who seemed to have the better instinct for strategy, at least in game form.

It was one of the few things that could make her youngest look so serious, and she recognized the pout on his lips when she arrived.

"Almost done are you?" She teased, kissing each boy in turn before giving Dorian's shoulder a quick squeeze.

"Yes." Era'fen looked up from the game and smiled, "Numinehn might actually win this time."

"Indeed?" Lavellan's brows rose, "Then that will be reason to celebrate. Do you and Cole want to help me make the mid-day meal? We can make cookies afterwards if you'd like."

"Yes!" Her oldest boys both grinned widely, straightening as they headed to the kitchen, and between cooking, cookies, and general merriment, the day progressed swiftly.

And when Asha stopped by to deliver the two empty charms, it was with some chagrin that Lavellan realized she had yet to ask her resident amulet expert about those particular gems.

"Mamae, what is that?"

Having laid the two pieces on the low table of the sitting room, the question was inevitable, and Lavellan chose to explain things as simply as possible.

"These are special tokens, one for Solas and one for me." She smiled, "They are lovely are they not?"

"Yes." Era'fen touched them reverently, "Are these to help the wolf?"

It had been a long time since either of them had mentioned their earlier perception of their father, but now it seemed such a small thing. That her sons were insightful and in tune with Solas only made more sense when she considered their lineage.

"Yes," She said softly as she brushed their wild locks, "This is to help the wolf be good."

Dorian appeared a moment later, eyes lingering appreciatively over charms as they winked the the dim light.

"And what do we have here? They look rather like the work from Rivain, a pair of lover's tokens, hmm?"

Dorian gave his best friend a knowing look, but was generous enough _not _to name the man.

Still, his words had Lavellan flushing as she jumped to explain, "Not quite, but similar I think. A Tie that Binds."

"It is older." Numinhen clarified, "But made today."

"Old but made today?" Dorian's lips quirked into a little smile as he repeated the boy, "Sounds like our usual amount of crazy then. You'll be wanting some gems for it?"

"Yes." Lavellan nodded, "Specific ones though. The blacksmith mentioned Dirthamen and Falon'din, the elvish gods."

"Ah, of course." Her friend grinned, "Always the most difficult path, hmm? Lucky for you I have one with me."

He bent over the side of his seat to pluck at his travel bag, a sturdy leather container with more pockets and locks than even his favorite outfit.

"Do you know where I might find another?" Lavellan asked curiously.

"I have not even gifted this one to you and you're already searching for another?" Dorian teased, "You wound me once more."

He drew the dark glittering gem from its pouch a second later, and the sight of it surprised her. But it was not until she had it in her hands, that she realized why.

"It looks rather plain does it not?" She asked, "Compared to the glowing mark on my hand, the strange light of the eluvian, I almost expected this to shoot fire or something."

Dorian laughed, "I can imagine this seems pretty tame by comparison. But believe me, you will find no finer stone. When Alexius and I were doing our work we spent a fortune on these."

"It does not matter to me how much it may cost, but I do need a pair. As this is the darker stone we would need its compliment, Falon'din's Reflection, correct?"

Dorian nodded.

"Does it look like this but white?" It was Era'fen who asked the question as his nimble little fingers found their way around the stone.

The Tevinter mage looked at his adoptive nephews and smiled, "Indeed."

And as the oldest twin passed the gem to his younger brother he too smiled, "I think we know where to find it."

"Truly?" His words were met with surprise from both Lavellan and Dorian.

"It is like the stones in the ruin...at least, I think so." Numinehn looked to his brother for confirmation.

"Oh yes." Era'fen nodded emphatically, "But it is hard to see inside and sometimes it is scary."

"Scary?" Dorian looked at their mother and then back at their eager faces, "Then perhaps I should come with you. We can adventure together, tomorrow maybe since it is getting late. What do you think?"

Both boys grew matching smiles.

"Maybe we can ask Solas too?" Numinehn suggested excitedly.

Dorian's expression was less than thrilled, but Era'fen spoke up in support of the idea as well, and with his additional vote of confidence it was impossible for their surrogate uncle to say no.

"You are both very right. We will just have to ask him when he appears tonight. Now then, who wants to help me place this gem where it belongs?"

It was while they were working to fix the gem into the first charm that there came a knock at the door.

And though Lavellan was the one to answer it, the man at the door was not who she had been expecting.

"Theron?" She opened the door wider as her brows rose in concern, "Is everything alright?"

He still wore his hunting gear from that afternoon, but there was an easiness now that spoke of tensions passed, concerns assuaged.

"Yes," He smiled slowly, "That is actually why I thought to stop by. We have found the creature responsible for those deaths. It is itself dead, so the threat is over."

"Oh?"

He nodded, "It seems the halla grazed too near the den of a Great Bear and woke it with their actions. It awoke early, angrily, and attacked them."

It was rare to find a Great Bear so far from the Dales. Lavellan frowned, "You are certain?"

"Yes. I know it is a rare thing out here, but we have proof. One of the halla, a female trying to protect her young, had used her horns, broken them in the attack. We found several pieces of it embedded in the flank of the bear. It seems to have died shortly thereafter."

"I see." Lavellan felt her heart ache in empathy for that mother, but felt a solidarity with her too. There was nothing she would not do for her own young.

"So the threat is gone?"

Theron smiled anew, and the expression lit his handsome face, eased the lines wrought from worry. "Yes. It seems that even with her death the halla and blessings of Ghilan'nain are with us."

"So they must be." Lavellan sighed in relief, "Thank you for telling me...tell _us_."

"You are very welcome. Now then...can I trust you to tell Solas?" Theron teased, "Or should I visit him in the forest myself?"

Lavellan grinned, "I'm not entirely sure you'd survive the encounter. Besides, he is to visit soon so I shall be sure to let him know when he arrives."

"Very well then. I leave this task in your capable hands" Theron winked as he turned to leave, "Sleep well, Lavellan. Send my regards to your sons as well."

She smiled, "Of course, thank you Theron."

But when she arrived back in the living room she found that she were short one boy, for although the twins were present, there was no sign of Cole.

"Has anyone seen him recently?" She asked, realizing with a start that she had not seen her oldest since dinner. It was not unusual for him to go and explore on his own, but he always made it a point to let her know, so that she would not worry.

A frown found its way upon her mouth and stayed there, growing deeper still when she called for him and heard nothing in response. Leaving the room where Dorian and the twins were still tinkering, she made it up to the attic, and what she found there had her running to his side.

Curled on his side, tall body twisted into a tight ball, Cole made a soft sound of distress when she sat beside him, smoothing the sweaty hair away from his face.

"Mother." He tried to smile, but a ripple of pain made him gasp.

She was leaning over him a moment later, hands seeking the injury that seemed to cause such hurt. But though his hands were wrapped tightly around him middle there was no sign of what might be causing it.

She swallowed hard when he shuddered, another strangled cry of pain spilling from his lips. And not for the first time as a mother did she wish she could take on the injuries of her children, to spare them such suffering.

"Cole," She asked gently, "What is happening to you?"

But when he spoke again, the words were not his own, for his voice was pitched in such a way that she recognized the man behind them.

_Solas._

"I am sorry, I fear the pain it will cause will be too much. It is seeping through the cracks already and even now it will be a struggle stop it." Cole inhaled deeply, "Tell your mother to forgive me if she can. It was not meant to be like this."

Then, his message sent, Cole moaned just once before falling suddenly, terrifyingly silent. And whatever concern Lavellan might have had for Solas became second priority to the immediate worry for her son.

"Cole?" Lavellan's arms clamped around her child a moment later, pressing him to her chest as she gently rocked him, "Cole?!"

She had been on battlefields, had led men into battle, but never before had fear congealed so thickly, so terrifyingly fast as when she held his limp body.

And then, just as she opened her mouth to call for help, to call for Dorian, Cole returned to her. Arms found their strength, his eyes fluttered open and he stared at her with eyes clear and unblemished from the pain. He looked exhausted but he smiled at her reassuringly when her own eyes filled with tears.

"I'm going to get Dorian," she promised, settling his on the bed, "He can look you over, heal you. Are you still hurting anywhere?"

"I will recover." He sighed as he settled back on his bed, "But you must hurry. There is no time for healing."

"No time?" Lavellan protested, "Dorian will not take long."

"Not Dorian, _you_. You must go now." Cole said as he closed his eyes, too tired to keep them open.

"Go?" She asked in confusion.

"Time is running out, slipping, sliding, like water through our fingers." Cole's voice drifted like fog, shimmering and bleak, "You need to go. _Find him_."

"Find him?" And that was when Lavellan remembered the words, _Solas_' _words_ from Cole's mouth.

"_Gone_." Cole whispered, and the words all but exploded in the silence, confirming every fear they had shared between them. "Solas is gone. I cannot hear him anymore."


	39. Flight

AN: Hello lovelies - real life continues to cause all sorts of havoc but thankfully I've had at least a bit of time to sit down and write this for you all. Your support, surprise and fist-shaking at our much loved egg was a joy to read after that last chapter and I hope this one does it justice.

As always, thanks to everyone for reading, following (now nearly 300 of you) and taking the time to give this piece a look. It means a lot to me!

Enjoy!

V

* * *

Lavellan tore out of the house without a clear thought in her mind, without a direction save the one her heart dictated.

_How could he have left?_

She felt emotion threaten to climb from chest to throat, the hurt managing to reach even higher, and she blinked rapidly to try and ease the sting in her eyes.

He had promised to speak with her in a few hours time. He had _promised_ and she believed him.

_But had she simply repeated her most spectacular mistake once again, to trust more than was right?_

She was not entirely sure she wanted that answer, but it was waiting for her regardless, and her legs carried her across Wycome, past the village proper and deep into the forest to where the cottage sat amongst the thick foliage and emerald fronds.

"Solas?"

Speaking his name on a whisper, she paused knowing that if she dared call to him any louder the quality of her voice would reveal how badly her convictions had been shaken. But her muted call served no one, and she drew nearer without a sense of where he might be.

_Was he just inside? Or was he truly gone?_

Her eyes traveled up to the chimney where a thin ribbon of smoke yet drifted. And though she knew better there was no stopping the sudden blinding hope that overcame her.

Perhaps he had _not_ yet left, perhaps he was yet inside preparing. If she acted now, _spoke to him_, there might yet be a chance.

"Solas?!"

Heart in her throat, she raced that final distance to his door, palm slapping against the weathered wooden surface as she pushed. But when the door swung open it was as she had feared.

_Empty._

And the fire that had sent such deceptive smoke was naught but a guttered remnant, the gauzy gray echo of what once had been so warm.

Struggling, Lavellan closed her eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. With emotions running so high it would be all too easy to lose control, and that was not a risk she could take. To do so now would jeopardize her ability to find him, to track him and bring him home.

The sting of her failure hurt, but losing him forever would be a far worse pain indeed. She _needed_ to keep things in perspective.

Opening her eyes, she took another shuddering breath and found herself in control once more; with that control came focus. Scanning the room, her eyes searched for clues, her brain working furiously to piece them together. Whatever had caused Solas to leave must have been serious, for he had not even taken his usual pack with bedroll. Indeed, it almost looked as if he intended to return.

_But Cole was never wrong, and even now his words haunted her._

Following the chaos out the door, she called upon her skills as a dalish elf to guide her path. She and Solas had disagreed many times about her people, but the skills she had learned as a child were undeniable. Even if she did not regularly hunt, the ability to track prey, to read the forest as clearly as a map and follow it to the goal, was a skill she could rely on.

One did not forget these life lessons even in the most difficult of circumstances.

With the daylight quickly fading she had only a few hours to work and she knew she would need every ounce of her skill if she was to find him. But it was no easy feat, and though she progressed quickly from that cottage to the shores of a nearby stream, she lost him shortly after that. Bodies of water were notoriously difficult, and with the shadows deepening she knew her time was running out.

_Would she be forced to turn back now? To wait until morning?_

Her heart rebelled at the thought, and she struggled to contain the jagged emotion of that panic.

Redoubling her efforts, she worked until even her sharp elven eyes were straining in the dark.

_Gone__._

_ Lost._

The moon was bright enough that she might continue for a little bit longer, and she pressed her palms to her eyes as if to try and gather the last bits of strength she had there. She would not give up until she had exhausted every opportunity, _exhausted herself_.

But the hurt was harder to ignore now, and though she remained in control, the lingering melancholy was impossible to shake.

She had just crossed the mossy ruins of an ancient bridge when a voice pierced the silence, pierced her.

"Lavellan?"

From behind he called so unhurried that she wondered if she had misunderstood. But her heart remembered, and in that moment all the hard won control, all of the careful mindfulness of the past hour shuddered, splintered as she turned to see his face.

Lit by the moon and a flickering tongue of veilfire, he looked quite removed from the waking world, _her _world.

"Is everything alright?" He asked. Crossing to where she stood, he touched her shoulder, traced the curve up until he was cupping her cheek. Concern puckered his brow when she swayed against him, face pale and stark.

"Is everything alright?" She parroted his words back at him in confusion, "How can you say that to me? Of course it is not."

She forced her arms to remain at her side, unwilling to reach out and touch him. If she did so now it would be impossible to let go, do whether it was to shake him or merely hold him was unclear.

Solas' curiosity morphed into confusion, "I was merely taking my evening walk, as I have most nights here. The moon was to be quite large tonight and I thought I might enjoy it before visiting you and the boys."

He sighed when she remained silent, "There was also quite a bit on my mind. I hoped to have it in order before we spoke. I apologize if my delay worried you."

But when he leaned forward to look at her in the eye, to really focus on her expression, he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. And that was when he realized what had happened, could see the fear that even now ran so deeply, _his_ legacy.

"You thought I had left. Without a word, without even that message I promised?" And though he asked it as a question, he knew the answer even without her response.

"You thought I had deserted you again...like before." His words could not have hit upon the subject more directly and he watched as a single tear spilled from her eye. Slow and glittering in the moonlight, she made to brush it away, but he was already there, smoothing the hurt with his thumb.

"I see." He lingered over that tear, the feel of it upon the pad of his finger, "But why did you think such a thing? Did I not promise to speak with you this evening?"

"Cole started speaking, worrying." Lavellan's voice was rough with emotion, "He had some sort of attack back at the house, like he was hurting, and when it stopped he said you were gone."

Solas looked suddenly pained, "So he did feel it then. That was...not my intention."

"What happened?" She asked, her words feather light but aching.

He sighed, passing his hand along the top of his head as if ruffling the hair he had long since removed, "I tried to tell him I would be closing our connection for a while. I was concerned that the Dread Wolf had manifested itself, taken control of me, and I knew whatever binding I tried upon myself would likely be painful. Cole's natural empathy as a spirit of Compassion meant he would be hurt as well, I hoped to spare him that."

But if his words explained one issue, it brought up another.

"You thought the Dread Wolf had taken control?" She took a step closer, and felt him jump, surprised even as he looked at her with concern. "I noticed something was bothering you when we met with Theron this afternoon, but you've mentioned nightmares before. Did something happen?"

"The halla." He looked as if he meant to continue, but the anguish flooded back to him with the memory, filled his eyes with such misery that Lavellan felt surprise still the breath in her lungs.

"That was _my_ doing. I killed them, Lavellan." He looked at her with aching sadness, "I dreamt of it, and when I awoke it turned out to be real."

Shaking her head, Lavellan rejected what he said, desperate to explain the truth of it. "You're speaking of the halla Theron was aiding?"

He nodded miserably.

"That was not you, Solas." Her words were spoke with conviction, with enough force that he remained silent in the face of it, "I do not know how bad your dreams have been as of late, but Theron found the creature responsible for the attack. It was _not_ you."

She looked him, "The halla fought back, and the great bear that killed them ultimately died as well."

There was a beat of silence, before Solas's expression eased, though it remained creased with doubt, "You're certain?"

There was a fragility upon his face that Lavellan had never seen so plainly before, and she nodded, "They found halla horn in the beast's flank. There is no doubt."

His arms folded her then, and this time is was _he_ who clung to her. Tall though he was, she supported his large frame with ease, savoring the closeness as the warmth of his body infused her own with a pleasant glow.

"You thought I had run once again and yet you came after me." Solas murmured after a time, "I have threatened multiple times to do so, but still you gave chase."

"Of course." She sighed, nuzzling his neck with the delicate tip of her nose, "I warned you before that I would. I never make promises lightly."

"I know," His hand gently carded through her hair, "But you still continue to impress me, surprise me."

Her lips curved into a small smile, "You say that now, but I fear I should warn you that I have become increasingly stubborn with age. I really do mean to put up a fight if you try and leave again."

"I..." His arms tightened as he gently bestowed a long, lingering kiss to the top of her head,"Thank you."

Indulging in the feel of her, the quiet strength and stout resilience, it was only when he pulled away enough to see her small smile that Dorian's word whispered back to him, reminding him of how much he had taken her for granted.

"Might I ask you a question?"

Her smile expanded, eyes crinkling in the corners, "You mean, besides the one you just asked?"

He laughed lightly, briefly, "Indeed."

"Yes, of course. What do you wish to know?"

"Once upon a time you mentioned that the birth of our sons was a complex issue, resolved with Dorian's help. At the time the relation between us was so strained that you would not say more."

"And you wish to know if I will elaborate now?"

He nodded.

"It is, at least at its core a simple thing." Lavellan spoke swiftly, easily, "Era'fen was born first, large and squalling, so animated and alive that the joy he brought with him was immediate, undeniable."

She paused, her gaze dropping to where her hand lay upon his heart, "Numinehn was quite the opposite."

"His birth took nearly half a day, though according to the midwife it should have been shorter than his brother's. I was nearly too weak at the end, and..." Lavellan swallowed, "When he arrived, all I felt was relief. But it proved to be premature."

Her hand closed on the fabric of his shirt, "I don't think I had ever seen Dorian look so serious, not even when we met his father. But I knew then that something was wrong."

"He was not breathing?" Solas guessed, though there was pain and fear in his offering.

"He was _dead_." Lavellan said shortly, closing her eyes even as her mind conjured the image with such painful clarity that she shuddered, "He was gone before I even held him."

She leaned against him then, voice tight, shoulders rigid with the strain of that memory "I am not certain I will be brave enough to see this story through."

Solas' hand gently settled on the small of her back, thumb tracing slow circles as he held her close.

"I will be here for you, as you were there for me." He promised, allowing her the time she needed, "You are not alone this time."

And so she began to tell her story.

_Everything hurt, her lungs, her chest, every muscle in the cradle of her hips seemed to ache. Eyes opening slowly, blinking past the sting of sweat, she struggled through the blur to find Dorian's face, but with her strength so depleted she could barely lift her head._

_"Something is wrong." It was not so much a question as it was a confirmation, but still the words threatened to stick in her throat. The silence was a raw and roaring thing but no sound was louder than that the pounding in her ears, the beat of her heart as it threatened to break._

_"I..." Dorian's voice shook badly, "I am sorry, Lavellan. Your youngest...the little one, did not make it."_

_It was with that apology that her world shattered. Coherence dissolving, giving way to denial, she shook her head back and forth as tears leaked from her eyes, her lips trying and failing to form the words that might call her child back to the world of the living._

_And though her body ached, there was no comparing the loss to what she felt so deeply in her heart, as if her very spirit had been rend in two._

_Her child was gone, and with it another piece of the man she had loved._

_"Let me hold him." The words were half lost beneath a jagged sob, desperate and fierce though they were. And yet Dorian knew what she wanted, and with the most tender of gestures he settled the little bundle against her chest, moving her limp arms so that she might hold him close for at least this little bit of time._

_It would not make up for the loss, but knowing that the child's little heart rested besides his mother was all the comfort he could offer._

_Choking on his own emotion, Dorian made is own excuses a moment later and left to look after the remaining boy, the twin who was now without his mirror._

_The room was quiet after that, and with neither Dorian nor the sounds of her eldest child to contend with the silence returned._

_All that remained was her little boy, her youngest son._

_Looking down at the top of his head, she felt her heart catch in her throat when she saw the little tuft of tawny hair that curled there, fine but unmistakable in its brightness. A little star, gone too soon._

_A tear streaked down her cheek, rolling until it fell off the sharp line of her jaw._

"Numinehn."

_She spoke his name for the first and last time, feeling time steal it away with the same terrible speed as it had his life._

_And yet, in the midst of this pain, bloomed an anger far deeper and darker than any she had ever known, ferocious and powerful, borne of the love she carried for her child._

Mythal, mother of us all, please hear me.

_It had been a long time since she had sent a prayer to the Creators, indeed she had not invoked the name of the ancient elven gods since her battle against Corypheus. But she was on her own now, and though they would try, none of her friends could hope to understand such a loss._

_There was only one other who might have been able to empathize, and he was nowhere to be found. All that was left were her Dalish gods, and so it was to them that she turned._

Mythal, goddess and protector of the meek, please help your daughter.

_The legacy of her choice at the Vir'abelasan had remained, existing on the edges of her mind in a muted murmur, at her words they seemed to renew in energy. Chaotic and unfocused though the voices were, she knew she had their interest and perhaps in some way she had Mythal's attention as well._

_Her hand came up to gently cup the back of her child's head, touching the delicate point of his ear. _

_Still._

_He was too still._

_Her heart shuddered within her chest, and when she hesitated, the voice of the well grew louder, more insistent_.

Help me save my child. She begged, as another tear crested and fell upon her son's pale face, do not let him die.

Please.

_The voices seemed to rise, to roar with the force of a mighty wave, and when it crashed over her, it swept along with it her pain, her desperation, her consciousness._

_She woke some time later to Dorian's exclamations of joy, the feel of his large hands on her shoulder as in the background she heard the squalling of her child._

_Feeble though the noise was, there was no doubting its insistence, the power with which Era'fen demanded attention._

_But when she opened her eyes, she found the whimpers were not from her eldest, for he slept quietly in her friend's arm. Rather, the sound came from her youngest, and that knowledge transformed it into one of such glorious song that her heart very nearly took wing and flew from the room._

_Her son was alive, and regardless of the cost she would do it all over again._

"Dorian cared for him, for them _both_, in the days afterwards, looked after them both while I recovered." Lavellan smiled as she eased out of the memory, "It was a much slower healing than either of us expected."

"And you were not the same afterwards." Solas said quietly, his eyes sharp, penetrating.

"No. Though originally I thought it was the strain of new motherhood."

"Was it?" He asked gently.

"Only partly." Her expression turned serene, patient, "My connection to the well was damaged, likely the cost of granting my wish. I have never truly recovered that power, and even now I am weaker than I once was."

"I no longer hear as many voices nor understand their meaning as I used to." Despite the weight of her words Lavellan seemed the loss with ease, "It is a trade I would willingly make again."

Solas could not disagree with her choice, nor her words, but with it came insight and the chilling sense that he had witnessed firsthand the risks of her new weakness.

"Dheron's power over you...when I found you in the Fade that first time you did not recognize me for a time. Was that-"

"Likely due to my diminished ability?" She wanted to chase away the fear in his eyes but could only offer the truth, "Yes. As I said, I am _weaker_ than you remember."

"But you are not alone." His words were firm, resolute.

"No?" She looked at him, her brows raising as she matched him for seriousness.

"No." He shook his head, hands gently taking her own, lacing their fingers together as he spoke, "I will stay by your side from now on, no matter what."

There was something in the way he said those words, a finality that made her heart constrict in her chest. His words stunned her, and the strength with which she wanted to believe him terrified her.

Looking up at him, she caught the hint of a sad smile on his lips.

"I know I have made it hard to trust," he admitted, "But as I said before, my feelings have not changed."

"You said yesterday..." The force of her wanting made the words stick in her throat.

_"What of your quest?" _The words twisted tightly around themselves as she struggled to pose the question that was at the root of so much heartache, "Will you take us with you when you must go?"

He shook his head, "The end of my journey remains a solitary one, but I can delay it for a time. I _will_ delay it. I'll not leave you or the boys again."

"For how long?" She asked, "A year? A decade?"

She dared not guess longer.

He lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin there, "I mean what I said, Lavellan. You will no longer be of this world when I leave, and the boys will have families of their own by then as well."

The implication was unmistakable.

"Truly?" She whispered.

He drew her face upwards as he smiled, a look of such tenderness in his eyes that it almost hurt to see such vulnerability. She had missed this closeness, had thought of it often in the years apart. Time had changed somethings, but it also had proven to preserved others, and their hearts remained as close as ever.

She sighed when his lips brushed the corner of her mouth, eyes sliding shut when he drew her against him.

"Truly." He spoke the word as a promise, an oath to be held above all else.

"For as long as you live, I will be at your side."


	40. Tender

AN: So I wondered for a while if I would actually write this scene or just make oblique references to it in what will now be Chapter 41. In the end, I felt that given all the angst I had put our couple through, it made sense that I present this bit of serious not-angst as well.

I don't want to ruin the surprise, but for those of you that ever wondered if it would happen...here you go ;) Please note the bump in rating.

This story is not quite done but we are certainly starting to wrap up. Thanks again for all your support and feedback on the past 39 (omg!) chapters, it's been a pleasure getting to write for you all!

I hope you all enjoy,

~V

* * *

Lavellan woke to find the world gilded in gold.

The early light of morning streamed through the sheer curtains and the dust motes in the air glittered like slivers of the sun. Warm and peaceful, a whisper of wind brushed the crest of her shoulder where it peeked out from beneath the blanket, and the sensation only made her smile, gave her an excuse to snuggle more deeply against the man who lay beside her.

_Solas_.

His arm tightened around her when she curled closer, palm cuddling the curve of her belly as he sighed deeply into her hair.

Dark tawny lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks, she brushed the elegant slope of his cheek as he slept. It had been years since she had last spent the night beside him, spent the night in his bed, but the experience was still as exquisite as she remembered.

And though all they had done was sleep she would not have traded it for anything else. Comfortable, safe, she had closed her eyes and drifted away without a worry, trusting that he would watch over her, protect them both.

And he had.

Just as he would continue to do every day until she was gone.

The thought might have worried some, but as a woman who had regularly faced down the very worst Thedas had to offer, the promise was one she cherished. She might not have _forever_, but if all her days were spent with him then she would consider herself happy with her lot.

She intended that their evening together would be the first of many and she would enjoy each one in turn. Having come so far just to reach this particular point Lavellan knew better than to take such things for granted.

It was why she lingered beside him even though her Dalish upbringing left her wide awake and ready now that the sun had risen. Feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her hand, listening to his slowed breath, there was a music in it that she cherished.

In the end, it was the seductive whisper of the bathing spring that finally coaxed her from his side. Slipping from the bed, from the warmth of his arms, she paused long enough to press one last soft kiss to his brow before leaving, feeling her heart swell when his lips curved into the smallest of smiles. She could not say for sure if it was due to her token of affection or a particularly pleasant dream, but the sight of it left her own lips curved into a smile as well.

It was this expression that she took into the stone-paved room that lay just beyond the bedroom. A contrast to the otherwise cozy quality to the house, the bathing room was a bright and airy construction.

Sunlight filtered easily through glass that sat high in the walls, and the large pale stones underfoot had been carefully worn so that there was a smooth edge around the spring. At the far end of the room sat a sturdy bench for undressing, and beside it a woven trunk that Lavellan knew would be packed with all manner of blanket.

The cottage may have been remote and otherwise unoccupied, but it was not without small luxuries.

Turning to the closer, smaller cabinet, Lavellan drew a small green flask of oil from its shelf. Even stoppered as it was, there was no mistaking the rich cedar scent of its contents, and Lavellan carefully measured out a small portion of the heavily perfumed liquid into the steaming water. The results were immediate, and she inhaled deeply when the air filled with the smell of the woods, the wild.

But her preparations has only just begun and from the other shelves she retrieved a coarse scrub brush, a soft cloth and a soapstone. It was, by Dalish standards, a decadent array, and she meant to indulge in the fullest.

Tugging the outer layer of her dress off, Lavellan let it drop to the floor before dutifully bending to pick it up. Clad in only the fine linen shift of her smalls, she savored the feel of the steam against the exposed skin of her face, neck and arms. Like mist, but warmer, sweeter.

_Hotter_ by the minute.

Pausing to fish a hair comb from her pocket, Lavellan braided her long hair up and away from her face, coiling the extra around the back of her head before securing it. With the heat of the steam already making her sweat, the relief of that weight from the nape of her neck was a notable improvement. And though the more stubborn bits of her hair threatened to curl, to come undone in the humidity, for now her work held.

Thus, it was to the ties of her thin under-dress that her hands traveled next. But though the knotted bit at her waist eased under her concentrated efforts, the fabric had already succumb to the influence of the spring, and it clung to the curves of her figure, the swell of her breasts with little regard for modesty.

Skimming her hands down her front, touching the sweat-soaked dips of her body, Lavellan smiled. It had been a long time since she had enjoyed a moment of sensualness such as this. On any given day she would have to ready, alert, embodying the hero they thought she was, the leader they expected, or the _mother_ she had chosen to become.

Her body may have been hers, but she often delivered it into the service of a higher purpose. It was rare that she might enjoy it herself, indulging in the simple joy that took hours she did not often have.

But right now the time was her and this morning bath would do her good.

Exhaling slowly, Lavellan let the humidity work into the stiffness of her shoulders, the ache in her back. But when she reached upwards to touch the knotted tie at her neck she was stopped short.

"Do you require assistance?"

The voice was little louder than a murmur but unmistakably his. She had savored the thought of being alone, but the promise of his company proved to be a tantalizing alternative.

Turning, following her gaze over her shoulder, she found him framed in the doorway, bare to the waist, blue eyes fixed on her, burning bright as veilfire. And though she said nothing, she could feel her heart begin to beat quickly in response.

He seemed to consume her the longer he watched, the intensity of his gaze only growing when his attention slowly wandered from her face to those parts of her that the gauzy shift could no longer hide.

She could feel his interest like a physical touch, feather light but scorching as he lingered over the image she made. Like a brush of fingertips over her skin, his attention made her body tighten, quicken, and she heard his breathing deepen, roughen, when he saw her reaction for himself.

Biting her bottom lip to keep from making a sound, she felt her cheeks flush. But it was not just shyness that drove such color to her face, it was attraction too.

He had lost none of his appeal in the years since they had last been lovers.

_"Please."_

She could barely speak, but with a word she encouraged him, _challenged_ him. With that single word she willed him to come closer and take them both to the edge of control.

Body taut, pale, beautiful, Solas moved forward at her beckoning, and she sunk her teeth deeper into her bottom lip when the sunlight's dappled hands splayed upon his chest and lavished it with such attention.

He approached her with that predator's gait, the slow, sensuous sway of his hips that reminded her of a wolf, reminded her who she was. She had always been as strong and proud as any halla, but she knew in that moment that through her own choice she had become the wolf's own companion. And it was that thought that kindled a flame in the pit of her belly.

She met him in the middle of the room.

And though he said nothing, there was a pleased glint in his eye when he smiled, a heat that was _warm_ rather than just _hot_.

Stepping forward so that he might encircle her waist with his arms, he inhaled slowly, deeply when she nestled against him. Hands settling against the exposed expanse of her back, he traced long, looping patterns along the supple skin before slowly winding his way higher. Teasing the knot at her neck, he brushed the dewy wisps of hair away before sliding his finger beneath.

"May I?" He asked gently, waiting for permission, her permission, to go further.

Her lips had been pressed to the fevered skin of his chest, and he felt rather than saw them curve into a smile. It was followed by a throaty chuckle a moment later, the sound rippling over him like a thick molasses.

"Yes, please."

The tie to her shift was undone in the next moment, the roughness of the knot giving way as the shift slipped down, catching on the sensuous curve of her hips but leaving her breasts, back and belly exposed, bared to his touch.

Drawing away so that he might look at her properly, Solas' hand flexed on the filmy fabric beneath his fingers, but remained where they were for the time being. Instead of touch, he continued to use his eyes, the searing heat of his gaze to keep her upon the very cusp of pleasure.

"You are still so lovely." He said after a time, his lips curving into a smile when her cheeks flushed darkly at his attention, "There is nothing but pleasure to be had in seeing your unclothed form."

"Will you not touch me?" She asked softly, "Your teasing is almost unbearable."

Smirking, Solas bent his head so that he might seduce with another kiss, parting her willingly with his tongue and delving into the luscious heat of her mouth. Her soft moan of pleasure was half muffled by his insistence, but when her hands clamped hard on his back, he drew back once more, eyes glittering.

"Because you asked so sweetly." He explained when her dazed expression turned questioning.

And with the smoothest, most fluid of gestures his hand lifted to trace the sharp angle of her collarbone, the elegant column of her throat. Mage though he was, his hands were rough, callused from years of living, fighting, and the texture of those small abrasions had her sighing in appreciation.

It was when he lifted his other hand to cup the tender swell of her breast that the slip finally fell away. Exposed, entirely unclothed, Lavellan seemed unaware of it all as her back arched into his touch.

She was so entirely honest with her response, uninhibited in the way she gasped his name. But so too was she a giving lover, and Solas grit his teeth against the pleasure of her own ministrations.

But when his hands wandered lower, skimming the sides of her ribs to touch upon her waist and the curve of her belly he saw her pause, and when he endeavored to move lower still she drew away as if embarrassed.

Following her step but allowing her the distance she craved, Solas frowned in concern, "Is everything alright?"

They had once been very familiar with one another, but he was not so arrogant to think that this step back into intimacy was not going to be without some tension, some awkwardness.

But that did not mean he wished to cause her distress, and so he waited patiently while she gathered herself. It was with no small measure of surprise that he heard her confession.

"It has been three years" She said softly, shyly, hands lifting to frame the new curves that graced her figure, "I am not as...slender as I used to be."

Had he not worried about confusing her, Solas might have chuckled. She was still the woman he loved, still as attractive to him then as she had ever been. And so he said the first and only thing to come to mind.

"You bore children, _elflings_." He meant to reassure her, but the thought itself was so pleasing that he could not help the gravelly tone of his voice, the roughness with which he spoke.

"You carried _our_ elflings." His voice throbbed with desire, and he took a step towards her as he spoke, "Mothered our children, and you are all the more beautiful for it, all the more desirous."

He was on her before she had time to respond, though her gasp told him she was now very aware of the insistent press of his pelvis against her.

"Lavellan." He carded his hands through her hair, and watched as it tumbled from its tie in a silken cascade, "You are beautiful."

Playing with the rich weight of her hair, he returned to his original path, following the decadent curves of her breasts downwards. But when he reached the slope of her waist he slowed, stroking the fevered skin there until her eyes drifted back to him, dark with a desire that matched his own.

And thus it was with her full attention that he lowered himself to his knees before her, pressing a kiss to the curve of her hip before turning to nuzzle the sweet curve of her belly, the luxuriously soft skin beneath her navel.

"_Solas_." Breathless, voice tight with want, Lavellan gasped sharply when he nibbled his way lower still.

The sensation of his mouth, the heat of his lips and tongue on the most sensitive part of her nearly made her jump. And when he found the little pearl between her legs, there was no stopping the way her hands scrambled for purchase as pleasure electrified her entire body. Clutching at the back of his head, the air began to fill with a litany of his name, her low murmurs of encouragement sending them both spiraling deeper into desire.

And when he suckled at her _just so_, she felt her legs shudder, the strength in them nearly deserting her as the crest of pleasure proved to be almost too much. Wanting to warn him, to tell him, Lavellan opened her mouth, but then he looked up at her with an expression so hot, that his naughty smile was all the warning she received before she felt the insistent press of his fingers join the questing swirl of his tongue.

_"Oh Creators."_

He had large hands for an elven man, and he knew how to use them.

Clever and sensitive, his touch, delved, teased until her eyes drifted shut. Pleasure coiling low in her belly, it tightened with every elegant flick of his fingers, every wicked gesture he lavished upon her with his tongue. Higher she soared, pushed by the overwhelming heat and exquisite way he played with her body.

But just before she reached that final peak he paused, and after a moment, withdrew.

Mewling in protest, Lavellan opened her eyes to find him standing before her. Lips slicked with her pleasure, the smile on his lips when he looked down at her was almost roguish.

"Now then," His voice rasped in her ear, "Shall we enjoy that bath?"

His hands were beneath her legs not a moment later, directing them around his waist, locking her ankles around him. But no sooner had she settled against him, the delicious wetness of her core against the rigid strength of his belly, when the pleasure of it made them both groan.

_"Hurry."_

Begging him, Lavellan's arms wound around his neck as she pressed soft, searing kisses to his neck. Half delirious with pleasure, she was only aware they had entered the pool when the water lapped at her waist, flowing over their tangle of legs when Solas seated them on the low stone shelf just beneath the surface.

Guiding her so that she could straddle him more easily, the sensation of his large hands on the silken, sensitive skin of the thighs had her squirming.

But it was Lavellan who coaxed the next soft moan from her partner, and when she grounding herself in his lap, pleasure arced between them like a fine web of lighting. Sharp and penetrating, she repeated herself when Solas' fair features flushed in arousal.

He was a quiet man, contained.

Lavellan sought to undo that control.

She kissed him languously, indulging in the simple pleasure of skin to skin, the brush of her breasts against the smooth skin of his chest.

And as she continued to rock gently against him, teasing, she felt the heat and rigidness of him brushing her center. Slipping between them to touch him, her hand closed around it with enough pressure to leave him panting. He was hot in her hand, thick and insistent, and she licked her lips at the thought of driving him over the edge.

She began slowly, carefully, watching his expressions as she progressed.

And when his eyes began to darken with pleasure she was more than happy to speed her actions, enjoying the way his jaw flexed as he struggled to remain in control, the stubborn way he held to his silence.

But she had not forgotten the time they had been lovers those many years ago, and when she rose to her knees she grinned at the suspicious look in his eyes. She knew what it would take to send him over the edge, and she greedily pursued that pleasure, leaning down to nuzzle the sensitive taper of his ear, nipping with just enough temper to have him arch into her hands.

_"Lavellan."_

Choking on pleasure, Solas' hands tightened on her hips and she felt her own feelings spike with his response. Tightening her hold on him, she continue to push, to pull him towards that final crest. And when his hand clamped down on her, stilling her actions, she knew with thrilling certainty that he was very nearly at the edge.

Breath ragged, chest heaving, Solas looked up at her, "_Lavel-"_

She sank down upon his rigid length before he could finish and his words were lost to a blistering curse that fell from his lips like a prayer. Rigid, muscles flexing as he struggled for control, Lavellan felt her own body tremble as it worked to accommodate him.

He was large, hot, and the press of him so intimately seemed to draw from her a fevered sort of energy. Rolling her hips, arching her back as she eased, it was with a startled gasp that she felt him respond.

And it was not a slow, smooth thrust into action.

There was no time nor need for it, not when she had teased him so well.

Se revelled in the way he directed their pleasure, hands splaying on her hips as he guided her to ride, to take him deeper and she happily followed his direction when he coaxed her to take him more deeply. Hips snapping, hardness slipping into the softness between her thighs, the hot press of him zipped through her with head spinning intensity.

Around them the spring splashed from the force of their joining, sending water drops through the air like little glittering gems. But beneath the surface the churning did nothing to mask the heat of their coupling.

"Solas."

Her own hands had remained clamped onto his shoulders, but when he bent to taste the tips of her breasts she could not help but clutch at the back of his neck. Coaxing him to suckle more deeply, she arched in invitation, and felt her breath catch again when he took her offer.

Tongue and teeth, he applied pressure with a masterful mindfulness, reading from her the direction to elicit another moan, another shudder.

And though it was the sweetest music to his ears, Lavellan pressed the back of her hand to her lips to try and muffle the sound when it had grown loud enough to echo through the space. But her modesty proved to be a tease he could not resist, and with a well timed roll of his hips, a sharp flick of his tongue, Solas undid that last vestige of control.

_"A-ah!"_

The sound of her surprise, the unfiltered sound of ecstasy had him glancing up with eyes bright and fevered, his lips curving into the most victorious of expressions. And as he continued to watch her ride him in delirious abandon, he found himself touched by tenderness amidst the lust.

"Look at me, Lavellan."

She opened her eyes ever so slightly when he spoke, her face flushing when she saw for herself the look upon his face.

Gritting against the need to come undone, he slowed, smiled when her eyes drifted shut once more.

"I-" Lavellan gasped, mewled, her fingers clamping down on him when he shifted again.

"I don't think -." She whimpered, struggled to find control.

_"You can."_ He was thrusting slower, his movements languorous, but he could feel her begin to tighten around him. And knowing he was out of time, he pressed one last kiss to her lips before murmuring his encouragement, his affection.

The word slipped from his lips on a gasp and that was when her eyes snapped open. Wild and dark though they were, they found his gaze and kept it. It was the last thing she could do before they were both caught by the wave of sensation, of pleasure so strong it nearly blinded them.

And through that shuddering pleasure, that exquisite moment of oneness, the look that passed between them then was unmistakable, as eternal as it had been the first time he had spoken it on that balcony back at the keep.

_Ar lath ma vhenan._


	41. Promise

AN: Hello all - it's been an embarrassingly long time since I've posted. But do know I have every intention of finishing this story.

I don't want to take too much time explaining - but simply, RL has kept me busy and on the move for a while.

I hope you enjoy!

Best,

Voi

* * *

Numinehn labored quietly in the dark, fingers twisting and turning the delicate strands, tucking the loose ends from one piece into the next. He had never done such work before, but he had his memory to guide him, one that was not just his own, but shared by countless before him.

He might have looked young, but there was an aged quality to his mind, a duality that not even his twin could understand. For though Era'fen's dreams were powerful, warning of things that might yet happen, _his_ dreams were of the past, of the Evanuris and the forgotten secrets of the People.

The nightmare had not visited him since Era'fen had learned to manipulate the Fade, but the imprint of it remained. Like a song harmonizing with the voices of the well, the details had followed Numinehn around until he had woken with realization.

And it was this awareness that had driven him to action, singing to him as he wove the threads back into a knot, allowing their words to guide his hand, to inform each gesture.

It was nearly daybreak by the time he finished, little fingers sore from such meticulous work, brow furrowed from such deep concentration. The voices were quieter now, pleased, and so it was that Numinehn drifted to sleep with the hum of approval in his mind.

He was drawn from slumber some hours later by the familiar melody of his mother, the warm touch of her hand against his back.

"Da'vhenan." Her voice was soft, gentle, as she called him to waking, "My darling, it is almost midday."

She tickled him beneath the chin until he smiled, smoothed the tip of his ear while he slowly summoned the energy to open his eyes to the daylight.

"Hello Mamae."

Her lips curved into an answering smile when he sat up and curled at her side, his tawny curls a vibrant little flame against the dimness of his room.

"Did you have a nice evening with Uncle Dorian?" She asked in a low murmur.

"Oh yes." Remembering his near-victory at the chess game, Numinehn sighed, "I almost won."

"Did you?" Lavellan's voice filled with amusement, "I imagine that was quite a surprise to him."

He remained silent as he basked in her sweetness, her implicit maternal love. And then the memory of her flight from the house late the evening before made him look at her anew.

And that was when he saw it, the truth that the voices had hinted at all along.

"You are _glowing_." He said knowingly.

"Glowing?" Her brows rose in surprise and she glanced down at the mark on her hand, but there was no green glint of magic.

His expression broadened, as he examined the truth of it.

"You helped Solas."

Era'fen had implied as much, but it was another thing to see if for himself. Like dappled sunlight through spring leaves, glinting gold as it traced the promise of buds and new life.

Love, different than the one she harbored for her sons.

"He will stay with us?" Numinehen asked.

"Indeed." She gave him one of those looks that reminded him of the memories that sung to him so sweetly, the ones of a different elven woman who had once upon a time loved a sadder, darker wolf.

A maiden of Mythal.

_Elgara._

Era'fen touched the necklace in his hands, the one that was in many ways the parallel to that bond he had watched grow between his mother and the one he wanted to call father.

His twin might have reservations, but he had known, _the_ _voices_ had known, the importance of such a bond, the promise of happiness that he had only seen in glimpses.

And with his mother's words, he found that promise had finally become reality.

He paused, turning her words over to examine them in his quiet way.

"Will he stay for a long time, mamae?"

"Yes," She exhaled softly, slowly, "A very long time."

He watched the curve of her lips, and there in the corners crept the barest hint of happy tears.

"You mean, forever." He said, confirming rather than questioning.

"Yes, my darling." She whispered, "He has promised us forever."

"Then you will need this." He said, offering the gift of his labor, the threads woven together, a representation of the past bound fast by the strength of the future.

And in the stunned silence that followed, Numinehn found himself collected into his mother's arms as her tears finally fell.

_The Lover's Knot, repaired and reborn._

_Soft, tender, tethering the heart anew with hope, healing with happiness. Stronger than any before and a belief that this lifetime will be better than the last._

Cole sat outside the house, eyes closed as he enjoyed the feel of rain against his skin, the rumble of the storm above him.

_A knot, once tangled but now tamed, twined with the love of family, firmly binding all that was lost into something new for the future._

_But will it be enough?_

He opened his eyes as a bolt of lightning split the sky, and inhaled deeply, savoring the taste of the forest in his lungs, the charged tang of the storm on his tongue. As a spirit he had little to worry about in terms of suffering bodily harm from the tempest, but having spent so much time as a 'boy' had almost made him forget the thrill of such potent displays of nature.

_Lightning dancing in the air, upon my fingers, glinting like the light in his eyes, the feel of his hands upon my skin when he touched my bare shoulder._

"Cole?"

He broke from his thoughts, _her_ thoughts, and looked down.

Dry despite the downpour, shielded by a bit of magic and a well oiled cloak, Solas stood there in greeting, swathed in a a quiet restfulness, a tranquility, that reminded Cole of the land around them.

"Hello and good day!" Expression bright as he descended from his perch, Cole settled his wide-brimmed hat upon his rain soaked head and then paused to admire the way the water beaded along its edge before dripping off.

_Beautiful, this weather, this storm of senses. Singing showers, the silken slick of her hair between my fingers as she sighs, a different storm settling and slinking away._

As his thoughts ran into those of his companion, Cole refocused on the man watching him with a rare smile, not just on his face but deeper too.

"You are here." Cole breathed the words, edged with the sort of surprised wonder of a child. And then it vanished beneath that ageless, eternal look between two who knew best to mysteries of the Fade.

The spirit sighed, "Such struggle, suffering, sinking in despair, but you have finally found the courage to accept it. Happiness."

"Indeed, and I have been a poor companion without it." Solas settled next to his friend just beneath the awning of the cottage, "You have seen some of the darkest parts I have walked."

Cole tilted his head in silent agreement.

"I made a mistake by walking away."

Solas paused, watched the shimmer of rain to wash the words from his lips, "I will seek to use the rest of this lifetime to undo that mistake."

"She does not want you to apologize forever. She wants to grow to be more, to be together, like branches, twisting, turning, sprouting buds and surrounding you both with family."

Solas smiled softly, turned to look at the spirit who was both boy and man, but also their son.

"You truly are your mother's son." He said as Cole's eyes widened, "I stole your memories away once, but not once have you railed against me for such transgression."

"You wish me to be upset?" Cole's brows rose, "To pick at that tender scar, tearing and transforming it into something ugly?"

Solas shook his head, "No. I know you to be a spirit of kindness. But even you deserve an apology for a wrongdoing."

Cole's lips quirked into a smile, "You need not worry, I have received it. You have made me happy by returning to us, to her. I forgive you, even if you did make me forget."

"Do you wish for it to be undone?" Solas asked, offering the chance, "To remember what was forgotten?"

Cole paused, looking from the man up to the grey sky, "Of the things that must come after? When this happiness has run its course and this all has become cherished piece of your heart?"

"Yes."

Cole shook his head, "No. I do not need those memories any longer. It no longer hurts you as it once did, and that is all that matters."

He looked back at where Solas stood, "But there is something that worries you still. Smaller, but...bigger too."

"The Keeper says families are what make the clan strong, keep the traditions alive." Cole smiled faintly, and then watched as Solas seemed to falter.

"Ah." Cole's expression eased as he sensed the flicker of pain, of fear, "There."

Solas sighed tiredly, "Yes."

"You do not think the Keeper will allow it?" Cole smiled kindly, "You are not a bad man, the Keeper knows this, is perceptive in the ways that matter. And my brothers..."

Cole laughed, "Numinehn will be happy. He is already beside you, warm and loving, a soft heart with strong shoulders, he looks at you with a thousand other eyes and sees a man he wants to call father."

"And Era'fen?" Solas asked quietly, intensely.

"You taught him to manage the nightmares, to protect those he loves by manipulating the Fade. Strong, circling shield, a bulwark against the crash and chaos of the dark."

Cole gestured to the storm clouds, "He respects you, but he does not know if he trusts you to protect us here, in the waking world."

"You will find a way." The spirit said softly, "But like a bottle of sand, streaming, sliding away, a test will come, the hunter will find the truth soon."

Solas' tall frame went rigid beneath the rain as he remembered the glint of arrows, piercing the air, their points stabbing into the body of his son.

"I promised to remain." Solas said quietly, "To be the one to protect this family."

Cole smiled, "Then that is what shall happen."

Late that evening, as Numinehn entertained his parents with stories of the day, his older brothers spoke quietly amongst themselves, their expressions serious, by the storm that loomed dark in their minds.

From a distance, they could see the glitter of their mother's necklace against her shift,

"The knots are returned, ready, tied tight by steady hands and strong hearts. Perhaps the worst of the nightmare can be avoided."

Cole looked down at his little brother, at Era'fen, and smiled, "And Solas has promised to stand against the hunter."

Era'fen's expression grew hopeful for but a moment before falling, "But the nightmare will come, despite our best efforts."

The spirit nodded, "Yes, but it is changed from what it was."

Era'fen looked at the token that dangled from his mother's necklace, the knot and charm resting close to her heart.

Solas wore its companion beneath this shirt, but the charm that accompanied it remained empty, lacking the stone that would set the binding.

To attain that vital piece would be to court the nightmare head on, but there was nothing to be done. Era'fen had forseen for himself the importance of such things.

For just at the nightmare was drawing near, so too was another vision beginning to dance on the edge of his awareness.

"Soon?" Cole asked, knowing his little brother was thinking of it now.

"When the rain is over." Era'fen confirmed, his expression growing distant, "We are almost out of time."


	42. Plans

AN: Hello everyone - another chapter for you all.

Always excited to hear your thoughts - so let me know! We're raising the stakes this time :)

Enjoy and remember - I own nothing you recognize as DA.

* * *

Dorian prided himself on many things: his looks, his wit, his very real talent for magic that was not _just_ due to his superior breeding.

He also liked to think of himself as a particularly observant man, and that was why, despite the otherwise unchanged air of Lavellan's home, he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that things had shifted.

It made sense to corner his best friend and get the truth from her directly, though part of him supposed that he could be patient and wait for her to raise the topic herself. It would be easier certainly, his friendship with Lavellan was an open one and he knew she would eventually.

There was a difference between getting the truth and making a scene – and though Dorian adored the spotlight, there was a time and place for such things.

He waited until the boys had been sent to their daily lessons with Solas before he appeared in her kitchen window, handsome face brightening when he saw what she was making.

"Do you have a moment?"

She looked up from the small cake in her hands and smiled, "For you, I can spare more than just a moment."

Dorian grinned, "Oh good, because I was lying. I am going to need more than that."

He paused, "Also, I know it's terrible manners, but may I?" He gestured to the cake, "It smells divine."

Her laughter was rich with warmth and good humor, "Cake before mid-day? Of course."

And so settling the two of them at the table beneath the open window, Lavellan and Dorian enjoyed their morning catching up about the goings on the previous few days, studiously ignoring the one evening she had rushed from the house in search of the wayward man who now shared her bed.

It was about halfway into their treat that Lavellan paused, growing silent as she focused on the man before her.

"What is it darling?" Dorian's lips quirked into a smile, "Some cake on my moustache?"

She snorted but shook her head, "Hardly. You eat with impeccable manners."

Her expression sobered a moment later, and she sighed, "I never did thank you, did I? For looking after the boys when I left."

"You do not have to thank me." Dorian said easily, "We've practically raised them together. So what was one more night in?"

"I-" She shifted, "I worry at how much I take advantage of you."

He waived her off impatiently.

"We have had this conversation more than once, Lavellan. And no matter how many times you try to guilt yourself, I simply will not have it. You and I are a _team_. The best of friends and an incredibly effective tag-team when it comes to raising three rambunctious boys."

Dorian smiled, "If you want to spend a night out, then you should...though I do bemoan your choice in men."

"I know." Lavellan smiled faintly, "You've been honest about that."

"That is just how I am, my dear." Dorian sighed, "But about that man of yours. Are you...pursuing this long term? Or is this a temporary pleasure?"

"I've never been one for momentary distraction," Lavellan admitted, "Especially not where Solas is concerned."

Dorian grimaced, "Of that, I am keenly aware. Very well. Have you done as I recommended? Told him the truth, found out for yourself if you trust him."

'I did." The smile on her lips grew, "And he made me a promise Dorian."

She did not have to detail it for her friend to know from the look in her eyes just what it was. And the trust there threatened to unravel even his own stubborn dislike of the man.

Solas was many unpleasant things, but he did not make promises he could not keep.

"I hope he knows how special you are." Dorian said as he gently closed his hand over hers and squeezed, "Because if he hurts you again there will not be a place safe enough in Thedas for him to hide."

"He's promised me a lifetime, Dorian." Her voice was soft, strong.

Hands tangled together, she smiled at the familiar warmth she found there, the companionship.

"I'm not certain that I will ever forgive him for what he did." Dorian admitted, " But I trust you. And if you are pleased, then that is all I care about."

"Good." Lavellan smiled, "Then perhaps you will do as I have said, and return to Tevinter."

"Done with me already?" Dorian teased, easing back in his chair.

"Hardly." She shook her head, "But I know Maevaris is missing you."

"She knows to expect me soon, but I hardly think that is the same as missing me. I told her I was visiting family in the south, both you and some distant cousins on the coast."

Dorian swirled the water in his glass as he mused, "We're on the cusp of exacting change in the Magisterium, and making the final move is going to take considerable effort, so I've been careful not to rush it. Still, you are not wrong, I will be returning to Tevinter soon...which remind me-"

He turned to his side and nudged open the well made leather compartment at his hip.

"Here." A moment later his hand was extended between them, long fingers unfolding to reveal a small spherical crystal.

"What is it?" Lavellan asked.

"It's called a sending crystal. Pretty handy really, just a little bit of magic and we can talk to each other regardless of the distance." He smiled encouragingly, "I meant to give it to you sooner, but the dratted thing was still on its way to the Keep when you left the last time."

Lavellan grinned, "Well I have it now. And it will have good company here on my necklace."

She drew the cord from beneath her shift, touching the newly formed knot before tying the sending crystal to the other side of the still incomplete binding charm.

"There." Holding it aloft she watched his eyes skim the three charms, "What do you think?"

"With all those bits of sparkle I do believe you are starting to have magpie tendencies, my dear. Do let me know if you start wishing to sprout wings...or try to fly."

And with a shared laugh, they returned to their earlier conversation, of the children, the past they shared and the future they would explore together.

The sun had only just reached its peak when the door to the cottage opened, framing Solas in the golden brightness of mid-day. Expression one of quiet contemplation, his features twisted into one of confusion when he spied Dorian seated in the kitchen.

A beat of silence was all it took to shift the room from a careful ease into one of simmering tension.

"What are you doing here?" Solas frowned.

"Excuse me?" The arrogance of the other man's comment had Dorian bristling in immediate anger, "As if you have any say as to where I go. This is _Lavellan_'s home."

And though neither man made no move towards magic, Lavellan was quick to rise from the table to defend her friend.

"Solas-" She began.

"I am trying to ask a question." The elven man's expression deepened, his tone firm but with an undercurrent of anxiousness that bellied a deeper unsettled emotion.

"What are you doing _here_?" Solas repeated himself, but instead of being either possessive or angry, the question was rife with genuine lack of understanding. And that was when a fissure of unease passed to Lavellan as well.

Not even the clearness of the day, the blue sky or bright sun could undo the knot that began to twist in earnest.

"What has happened?" She asked carefully.

"The twins had said they were going to visit Dorian and then travel to the forest together. Cole went with them so I thought nothing of it."

Solas' eyes darkened to the color of storm clouds, "But clearly that did not happen."

Dorian paled, shook his head, "Neither of us have seen them all day. We have been here."

"Did they say where they were going?" Lavellan looked from Solas to Dorian and back, "What could they possibly-"

And then she remembered her conversation with the boys, about the missing stone in the binding charm.

"A ruin in the forest, one that is scary but useful."

Lavellan turned to Dorian as she repeated the words, her son's words, "They said they wanted to show you a gem, Falon'din Reflection...but surely they would not have gone today, not alone."

"I will find them."

Lavellan turned to Solas, saw the rigid set of his shoulders and the serious expression in his eyes. And in that moment she saw him as a father worrying for his children.

"Do you know where they might be?" She asked, "There are more than a dozen ruins in the area, but none are for Falon'din."

"I do not know for sure," Solas admitted, "But I will search them all if I must."

His eyes drifted from her to the land just beyond, to where their children were lost.

Lavellan crossed the tight space of the room towards him, "I will come with you."

"Please." His words were desperate, "Stay here. If they should come back then it would be best to have you waiting, ready for them."

His control seemed to slip with each measured word, hands working themselves into tight fists as he continued to scan the line of trees just beyond.

"_Solas_."

Lavellan's hands anchored in his tunic, held him until he looked away from that distant horizon, waited until his wild eyes grounded in her steadiness.

"We will do this together." She said firmly, "I will stay here for a time, but if they do not return then I will join you in the search."

Solas paused, held himself so still his emotions seemed to vibrate from within, "Very well."

"We _will_ find them." She promised, raising on her toes to kiss his cheek, "Now go."

And with her permission he slipped away, powerful limbs eating up the space beneath him.

The long minutes that followed were an almost unbearable agony, punctuated only by the sound of Lavellan's breathing, the air still abuzz with the anger, fear and love that centered on the three boys.

"Dorian, will you-"

Her words were cut off by the noisy clatter of something hitting the back door of the cottage. Lavellan was outside in an instant, Dorian at her elbow. And though they found Cole physically unharmed, there was a terrible sadness in his eyes, a guilt that weighed him down until he trembled beneath the strain.

"Cole?"

She knelt beside him, cupping his cheek as her other hand brushed the dirt from his face. Vacant eyes, lightless and distant stared back at her for a long moment, an eternity.

It was only when she spoke his name anew that he seemed to return to her, eyes filling with both tears as well as recognition.

"_Mother_." Broken by a fear, a hurt of his own making, Cole inhaled with a shuddered breath that shook his entire frame.

"I have failed you, failed and – there one moment, gone in the next, eyes see but senses do not understand. Where did they go? Lost, looping, their magic lingers but I cannot find them. I have lost them and I am _alone_."

His voice grew more taut, more tight with each word, speeding past itself in a rush of sound, and worry, pain and -

"_No_."

Her arms tightened around him in an instant, cutting off the flow of pain, his mounting fear, with the strength of her arms, the conviction of her belief. Gathering long lanky limbs close to her warmth, her heart, she shook her head.

"You could never fail us, Cole. _Never_."

"But I..." He grimaced, "The twins-"

She asked gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "Where are they?"

"The ruin in the forest, the one that rings like it did when the world all sang the same. An echo he would recognize. A sadness turned sharp with loneliness."

Cole shuddered, "Solas promised to help. I forgot to bring him along, my fault. My fault."

It was Dorian's large hands that righted the hat on the boy's head.

"Steady on, Cole. Let me take a look at you. You're babbling...and there's some strange sort of magical flickering happening on the edges of...you."

And indeed there was, a green cast to his skin that danced like light upon the tips of his hair, one that was too vibrant to be illness.

Dorian frowned as he cast his own ability over the boy, "There's some sort of residual magic still attached to him. It could be that this ruin still has active magic guarding it."

"Is it hurting him?" Lavellan worried.

"Not that I can tell." The mage frowned, "The emotional intensity – it seems heightened somewhat, but there's no indication that the magic is meant to bind a spirit, or do him hard. Perhaps it's some sort of morale or empathy spell turned cruel?"

"A familiar green light, it sings like the mark on your hand, the sliver in your shoulder, slicing through the silence but the echo is wrong." Cole smiled faintly, "But it would recognize you, mother, It would let you pass."

"Then there is no time to lose." Lavellan held her eldest, "I need to go to the twins. Can you tell me where you saw them last, Cole?"

Her son shook his head, hand reaching out to grasp her own, "Let me _show you_."


	43. Father

AN: I know it's been ages - but I am still actively working on this story (or at least thinking about it) at least daily.

It's looking like we're getting down to our final few chapters - only 2 more to go I think!

Thanks to everyone who has put up with this large delay - this one is absolutely dedicated to each one of you.

Best,

Voi

* * *

It had still been raining when Solas opened his eyes that morning.

Drops glimmering in the fledgling light, it had shimmered in the air like a curtain of fine silver chain, washing the land so that all glistened with a similar silken texture. And though there was no longer the torrential roar of a storm, not even the quiet musicality of this drizzle could hold his attention for long.

Rather, Solas found himself focusing on the supple limbs still entwined with his own. Tracing the gold morning light as it touched her features, he smiled at every riotous tangle in her hair, every tender mark they had made in relearning to be lovers.

The night had been velvety and dark but breathtakingly bright in the future it promised.

Her presence continued to humble a man who had so often been condemned for his pride.

He belonged here, at her side. Even now, and after so many years of self-imposed exile, the realization still had the strength to shake him to the core. The bed was no longer _Lavellan's bed_, the children and the house, no longer solely the responsibility of the mother.

It was his task now as well, a burden he gladly shouldered.

He was no longer a lone wolf, no longer the man running from his past.

Perhaps that was why, hours later, when he found himself confronted with that history, he was not as surprised as he might have been. And though the entry to the Temple of Fen'harel's remained as impressive as always, its meaning had shifted for the man who stood before it.

He had known this temple from the moment he had approached, for with every step forward he had felt the tug of wildness and power at his fingertips, the seductive call humming in his blood, of power, of Fen'harel.

It seemed Wycome had retained its active eluvian, and though it lay deep within the dense growth of forest, the path to it had been uncluttered, as easy to read, as a millenia ago.

When he stepped through the entryway, to find the glittering mosaics on the walls unblemished in age, he found himself heartened. His sons were within its walls, this he knew without a doubt.

And perhaps he had won some measure of luck as well, for the modest scale of the temple would aid his search.

Striding down the smooth flagstones with sure steps, he had savored that sense of timelessness, but when he entered the hall that had once housed Elgara's tree, he found that time had not truly stood still. And it was here where the memories, nightmares and reality, all merged.

Where once had stood the sapling now towered a behemoth of nature, a great coiled and richly hued tree with boughs of heavy silver leaves. And the flowers that had once perched delicately, like small white doves, now bloomed like the exotic plumed creatures that had once filled the Fade with such life.

But it was not the strong limbs of the tree that drew Solas' attention, rather it was what lay at its feet. And beneath the tangle of roots was a fissure, one that allowed a narrow shaft of sunlight to pierce an inky depth that descended deep into the earth.

It was this shadowed space, this secret hall beneath the temple that had been the subject of those nightmares.

But as he made him way beneath, Solas noted that the comparison, like so many other things in the Fade, was imperfect. The fear and desperation that had tinged the dreamscapes had no place here, and the shadows did not cling and threaten to engulf those that walked too near.

There was however, every reason to be cautious, and as the minutes drifted by, Solas noted the heaviness of the air, the tingle on his skin that spoke of thinness of the veil.

Examining the place where tree root met the cascading silver of a cunningly carved fountain, Solas was not surprised to find the water shifted in turns, from lightest blue to the barest of greens, caught as it was between the veil and the word that now existed without it.

But though the details of this place interested him, intrigued him, there was no sign of the twins, and so his findings brought him little joy. Instead he turned down the trail in search of another lead, another clue to where his sons might be waiting.

Through the main cavern, down a winding outcropping, he had only just rounded the corner of a particularly large statue of a wolf, when he was stopped short.

"Fancy meeting you here."

The greeting was light, unhurried, but it electrified the underlying tension that have driven him to the temple depths.

There had been no sound, no warning, but Solas knew this voice. His presence here, _now_, made both too much sense, and yet not enough.

The hunter had arrived, and he wore a familiar face.

"Theron of Clan Sabrae."

Solas spoke the man's name in surprise and acknowledgement, watching the other carefully as he straightened from his perch on a distant wall.

"Solas." There was an easiness to the hunter's movements, but a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes, "Or should I be calling you something else?"

The smiles that crossed their lips were without humor, but neither man made a motion toward violence.

"I believe I know why you have come," Solas spoke calmly, "But I feel I must ask. How was it that you were able to enter this sacred place? Clan Sabrae has never held treat with this lineage."

"This lineage?" Theron repeated the words, as his eyes scanned the walls of the temple, the rich mosaic of wolf and man, "You mean the lineage of Fen'harel?"

Solas inclined his head. "Just so."

Theron laughed as he eyed the man anew, "Perhaps it is best I mention, I am Theron _Mahariel_. I was adopted by Clan Sabrae when my parents died."

"Mahariel?" Solas felt his brows rise and this time his lips draw up in a small, but very genuine, smile. "Oh, I see. You are of Elgara's people then. That is...acceptable."

If Theron understood who Elgara was, or what this meant for his presence at the temple it was unclear, but there was no denying he was indeed the _hunter._ And thus even though a common lineage flowed in between these two men, Solas' first loyalty was unquestionably to his children.

"Do you mean to do myself or my sons harm?" He asked.

"Harm?" The other's brows rose in surprise, "No. The opposite, I wish to find them, to _help_. Though, there is uneasiness in me here, something not quite right."

Solas nodded, "You are right to be cautious. Time has changed this place, and the old magic is not as steady as it once was."

No sooner had he warned the other man than there was a pulse of magic, and the land around them shifted, undulating as though influenced by a great wave.

The motion unseated years of dirt, and it was only when the fine film of grime had settled once more that Solas realized there was a third figure in the hall, crouched at the far end by a glittering white gem.

"Hello?"

At his greeting, the figure staggered upright. Short, with a mop of hair that glinted like firelight.

"Numinehn?"

With the distance and the dark it was impossible to say for sure, but at his word the figure lurched forward, casting additional dust from his small form to reveal a familiar flash of teeth.

"Papae!" Spoken with a smile, the little boy waved him forward, but remained where he was, too unsteady on his feet to move.

Solas was at his side in a moment, expression creased with concern when he caught sight of the boy's pale face and sweat soaked brow.

His son was swaying slightly, listing back and forth as if he were a small ship at sea.

"I am ok." Bright, optimistic, the boy sensed his father's concern, but even his words were not convincing enough to excuse his sickly pallor.

"Numinehn_." _Solas' hands came out to steady his son in an instant, drawing him closer when his hands met fevered skin.

"What is-"

"The magic." Sighing against his father's shoulder, Numinehn closed his eyes, "The waves, they sing the old song but it is not right. It makes the voices in my head hurt, makes me sick."

There was a secondary pulse, a small one that made the little boy groan with such pain that Solas immediately took him into his arms.

"Hush, da'len." Solas' hand shone with soft blue light as he cupped the back of his son's head and sent a gentle pulse of healing magic across his temples, "This will help."

"Help..." Repeating his father's words, Numinehn sighed in relief, "We were going to help you and Mamae."

Mumbling now, half lulled to sleep, his son curled closer but pulled sluggishly at the small pocket stitched to the front of his tunic.

"What do you mean da'vhenan?" Solas asked gently, turning so that he held the boy in both arms.

"We found it." His youngest smiled as he finally withdrew the item which he sought, a small pear colored stone, "The other half of the tie; the one that will help you keep your promise to us."

_Falon'din's Reflection. _

Solas had seen Lavellan's token just that morning, warmed by her skin, he had touched its shadowed surface and wondered if it would indeed prove to be the solution they sought. Presented now with the final piece, _his _piece, it seemed almost too good to be believed.

With this tie, the specter of the wolf might be gone from their lives forever.

They could live a normal life, the one thought impossible.

Slipping the small stone into it's metal brace, Solas had only just opened his mouth to thank his son when the land began to rumble anew.

But this time, the pulse of magic was more insistent, more unsteady, and with barely any time to shout a warning to Theron, Solas hauled his son more firmly into his chest as he cast a protective barrier around them all.

His work however did not prevent several large stones from falling, and amidst the chaos and shouts of those around him, Solas was struck and fell almost immediately unconscious, his arms still wrapped tight around his young son.

But the silence and dark were short lived.

Solas awakened with a start, eyes snapping sightlessly open at the sharp bite of pain in his leg, the throb of agony across his back. He was _alive_.

There was the tang of blood on his lips, and his left ear throbbed, but he could not ignore this truth.

Aching, Solas pushed himself to his elbows, then more slowly to his knees. And when at last he managed to steady himself to a half-crouch, he felt his heart stutter at the slash of crimson he found upon the ground, and the small body that lay in his shadow.

_"Numinehn." _

Desperation, then panic, the sensation avalanched through him with a strength that threatened to make him nearly insensate But his eyes, his _mind_ could not unsee that blood, could not move past the thought that his son has been harmed.

"Numinehn!"

Horrifying images played in his minds eyes, each more terrible than the next, of the little boy he was not able to properly protect, of his greatest duty failed at the first test.

Falling to his hands and knees, Solas reached out a shaking hand to touch the small shoulder, to send a pulse of healing magic first, then another to-

A large masculine hand clamped down on his shoulder, steadying him with its forcefulness.

"He's alive Solas." Theron's voice, commanded him to pay heed, "Look, he breathes."

And indeed the little boy did, small chest rising and falling in a slow but steady measure. Choking on relief, Solas nodded wordlessly as he allowed himself a moment to gather himself, to try and stop the sickening twisting in his gut, the shaking in his hands.

But there was a shadow in this fractured hall, a dark inky thing that stalked the three like a predator. And it was only when Solas raised his head that Era'fen's absense made sudden chilling sense.

_He is very much like you_.

Lavellan's word echoed to him from across time, this time sounding more like a warning, a caution.

Where was their eldest twin?

His question did not have long to linger in his mind, for the next shuddering pulse of magic answered it for him. And as the tunnel crumbled, opening upwards to expose the vast cavern at Elgara's roots, Solas saw the darkness for what it was, a shadow of his legacy, cast by the boy who was in many ways his own mirror.

"Era'fen?"

He spoke the name and was met with an echoed greeting, his name called from a great distance, from a great height. And when Solas followed the sound he finally found the last of his missing sons, but it was not as he expected.

Rather, it embodied all that he feared.

Seated atop one of the stone wolves in the grand hall, the boy stood atop its back, his eyes an unnatural, glittering green.

And though he had the look of his son, the face and body, there was no recognition in Era'fen's eyes. Rather his attention seemed locked on Numinehn's limp body in their father's arms and the smear of blood that marked his still figure.

Solas realized too late how the scene must look and though his long stride carried him forward, he could not intercept the dangerous inaccuracy that poisoned his son's mind.

"Stop, Era'fen, it is not what you think!"

But the shadow of the wolf descended upon them all, and Solas watched in horror as the nightmare became reality.


	44. Mother

AN: Hello lovelies! Second to last chapter here - only one more to go! I'm still playing around with the idea of an epilogue, but we'll see how it goes. Thanks again for all your lovely support over these past 44 chapters, you continue to inspire and encourage, and I thank you for that.

Best,

~Voi

* * *

It had not been so long ago that Lavellan found herself faced with an eluvian. Ancient and elusive though they were, her travels had led her to them with unusual frequency.

The first time had been at the temple of Mythal.

The second had been at the temple of Dirthamen.

But now, as she stared at the glittering surface of this, a third elluvian, Lavellan found herself at a loss.

The mark on her hand throbbed with power, the mark of Fen'harel recognizing something that she did not. But despite this resonance, she could go no further.

Oh her hand could pass through easily enough, feel the slightly cooler air on the other side of the plane, and with effort she could negotiate her entire arm into the curtain of magic. But try as she might, she could not get gain a single inch past her shoulder. No form of magic, nor feat of might or cunning seemed to make a difference.

She _needed_ to be on the other side of that mirror.

But even the forcefulness of her thoughts did nothing change to her situation. The irony of the moment was not lost on her. She had wished for years to have an entirely normal life, to be free of the responsibilities of the Inquisition, the mark. And now she appeared confronted with what it was to be ordinary.

And though the carved stone wolves promised sanctuary for those inside, Lavellan grew increasingly certain that she was not meant to be among them.

It seemed that though she carried his mark and carried his children, this gate and what lay beyond belonged to those of the Fen'harel lineage alone, and for once not even Lavellan was exception to that rule.

Slamming her hands against the surface of the mirror for the third time, Lavellan caught sight of her distorted reflection, the exaggerated twist of her lips and shadow of her features. A creature of desperation, she wondered if it was that the mirror was showing the inner agony that threatened to overwhelm her entirely.

She knew her sons were inside, and though there was no evidence, she knew the truth of it as surely as she was their mother. But being unable to get to them, to protect them, was a fact she was unwilling to accept

The vision from her last encounter with the eluvian was still too fresh to be forgotten, the warning still vibrant despite the uncertainty. When Lavellan had been fleeing Dharon she had found herself faced with a vision of two men, her sons. Shadowy figures in the eluvian, she had watched in horror as the Dread Wolf had threatened to descend on them both, and in doing so consume them.

It had been a horror to behold, and yet, in the midst of that dark had been a moment of clarity, of insight.

Reaching out to stop that shadow, to protect her sons, she had extended her hand, her mark and changed that creature of dark to something different.

She knew now that her mark carried the power of Fen'harel, was tied to him and his power. But how would she touch him, touch them if she could not breach this barrier?

Her hand throbbed with magic and she reached up to touch it against the pair of tokens around her neck.

_Had Solas been able to make it to the other side? Was he with them now?_

No sooner had the question crossed her mind when there was a soft hum of magic in her hand, one not from the mark but rather the token itself, the tie that promised to be binding.

_Had Solas found its pair? Was that what this was?_

Looking down at the stone in it's little metal frame, Lavellan stroked the faceted surface.

_Solas_.

The amulet pulsed at his name, once in reassurance. But just as she sensed him, so too did her awareness grow, aware of something else, something more sinister on the edge of her consciousness.

Looking around in caution, Lavellan surveyed her surroundings but found it unchanged. The trees were as stoic as ever, their autumn colored boughs still and untouched by the wind.

But the peace around her did not reassure, and when the unease continue to linger, to grow, Lavellan realized that perhaps these feelings were not her own. Brushing the hand with the mark against the token, there was a flash of green as the magic recognized something familiar.

And though she felt a slight tug as the tie siphoned a small piece of the mark's energy into itself, there was the corresponding easing on the other side. As if her loss was somehow Solas' gain.

Before she could properly measure her next delivery of energy, to better understand the new ability that lay at her disposal, she was brought to her knees by a wave of such devastating empathy that she found herself gasping upon the ground.

But the sensations, the unbelievable intensity, only seemed to grow, and in the midst of the maelstrom bloomed the awareness, the realization that these feelings were of Solas' person as well. It was fear and a desperation the likes of which Lavellan had never known him to ever express.

And as she sensed the next wave threaten to crash around her, around him, there was no time to think or assess.

Not time to cry out other than to send Solas a single determined thought.

_Keep them safe._

Lavellan's fist closed around the token, the tie, and poured the power of the mark, all the power she had, into it. Faster and faster it came, borne of the love and determination to protect those she cared about above all else.

And with each drop of her magic, the air around her bloomed brighter and brighter, until she was naught but a beacon of light and her figure faded from view.

Solas woke to the sound of whimpering. One or both of his sons were huddled somewhere at his side, but though he could hear them, he could not for the life of him, find the strength to lift his head, to even turn it in their general direction.

He was bloodied, badly singed and aching from a magic that yet tingled at his fingertips. And in his ears, in his _mind_, echoed Lavellan's words, humming with determination.

_Keep them safe._

It seemed to take an age to gather his strength, and it was only when the whimpering had fallen into tearful silence that he managed to lever the heaviness of his eyelids open.

It is Theron's face that appeared first, and though the room remained shrouded in half-shadow the man's expression was clear, concern etched into every sharp feature.

"You're alive." The words were spoken with a smile, but it is a grim thing, one shared by survivors, "You had us all worried."

"The boys?" Solas' words were little more than a rough croak.

"I have Numinehn." Theron said, gesturing to somewhere beyond Solas' view.

"Era'fen?"

And just like that, his eldest appeared at the edge of his vision, little face smudged with dirt, eyes large and luminous with tears.

_Alive_.

_Aware of himself, of who they were._

The shadow over him was gone.

Solas' heart shuddered in relief, but when he reached up to touch one bruised little cheek the boy flinched away from his gesture.

"I hurt you."

Era'fen's words were leaden, spoken with a wealth of misery behind them. "Mamae said you do not have to be special to do good things. Sometimes you just have to be brave."

Era'fen looked at his father, the blood and bruising, and hiccuped a small sob, "I was scared by the song, by what it did to me. And I let it change me."

Solas slowly rolled to his side, so that he could face his distraught son.

"This is an unusual place, da'len, you were brave. You came here to help, to find the stone for me and your mamae."

The little boy's eyes filled with tears, "I was _scared_ – and then _I hurt you_."

His voice caught, strained, "I was not brave, but you were. You stayed, like you promised, and you found us – you found me."

"Era'fen." Rolling into a seated position Solas felt his throat tighten in emotion as his eldest curled against him and sobbed. Hands, arms coming up and around, holding his child close, Solas made a soft comforting noise in the back of his throat.

"Shhh...da'vhenan." He crooned, "I've got you."

The child seemed to cry all the more, small hands clenching the fabric of his tunic until Solas could feel him huddled there beneath his heart, a little furnace that belonged at once to both him and the woman he loved.

_Safe_.

For now, that was all a father could ask for.

"Solas." Theron's voice called from a distance, "I think it best we go, the temple remains unstable. Shall we?"

"Yes, of course."

And yet, as they began to make their way back, traversing the overgrown temple to tuck around the thick roots of their lineage, the lingering touch of magic on Solas' fingertips reminded him that in his moment of greatest need he had not been alone to carry that burden.

Dangerous though it was, Lavellan had not left him to face the legacy of the Dread Wolf alone.

The wellspring of his power delivered through the charm at his neck, it had sung through his veins in glorious harmony, his strength mingling with her keen ability to wield it. He had sensed her there beside him for only a moment, but even now that she had disappeared, it seemed the reservoir of power remained, just slightly out of reach.

But though the strength of the magic remained, the presence on the other side of the magical tie was quiet.

It seemed likely she had exhausted herself.

Frowning as they reached the main hall, Solas made a note to deliver the boys first to the healer before returning to the cottage. Best he look after her first, make sure she was properly settled before bringing the boys

But as they exited the Eluvian, Solas found a grim-faced Dorian waiting for them and a too-serious Cole spiriting both Theron and the boys away.

And though he said not a word, the ice cold accusation in the Tevinter's eyes, was enough to tell him something was very, _very_, wrong.


	45. Forever

AN: Hello lovelies - well here it is! The FINAL chapter of this fic. Thank you SO much for all of your support, your patience (especially in these last few chapters) and your enthusiasm.

I cannot tell you what a joy it has been to write this story for you, to take this journey with our favorite elf pairing and see what has come of it.

Please let me know if you have any questions - but otherwise, I'll see you next time!

Best,

Voi

* * *

She was dreaming, a dream that seemed to have lasted for centuries.

Dappled sunlight and the scent of crystal grace on the wind, the world seemed to sigh with an ease that she felt in her bones, a great relief she felt in the very muscles of her form.

Around her, the world seemed softer, gentler than she could remember in recent memory. There were no birds to be heard, but the soft shuffle of her feet against the smooth stones of the temple's courtyard echoed against the carefully crafted walls, each one polished so finely that she could see her reflection.

"Vhenan."

She had not noticed him until he spoke, and she did not turn immediately when he called to her. Instead she allowed her gaze to linger on his reflection, to watch the early beams of the sun dance through the gauzy sleeves of his tunic, glint off the gold of his richly embroidered vest.

She glanced over her shoulder to where he stood framed beneath the heavy boughs of the large tree that dominated the space. This dream reminded her of their first evening together, the intimacy if not exactly of the location.

"Where are we?" Lavellan asked gently.

"You mean besides the Fade?" A smile crossed his handsome features, but the expression, the sorrow in his eyes made her wonder.

"Yes." She smiled faintly.

"This was the courtyard where my father gently coaxed a sapling to a tree. Where Elgara first met the elven man Fen'harel and fell in love."

His expressed faded, weathered, "It is a place I have returned to many times over the ages. Each time I learn something new."

"Why are we here?" Voice hushed in reverence, she glanced up at the silvery canopy.

"Because I would like this place to have a memory of us, of you."

When she looked back he had drawn close, and his hand rose to gently brush the amulet and charm around his neck. She felt that touch against own chest, but though his touch was gentle it was tainted with a despair that even he could not hide.

"Why do you look so sad?" She asked.

"Because despite this dream, you are far away. And the distance _aches_."

Her eyes softened, "We have been apart before."

"Yes," Solas admitted, "But it is not the same without you. The weeks have turned to months, and we miss you."

He sighed, "I am not myself without you."

Looking down at where her arm ended at her elbow, Lavellan frowned, "Are you not whole again? Even more whole than you were when we first met? Your power has returned."

"That is not what I meant." His fingertips were on her chin, coaxing her to look at him, "I am not the _man_ I should be, not without you."

"You've never known me like _this_." Lavellan touched the edge of her shirt, fingers glancing over the end of the stump.

"Who you are is not a collection of your power, your titles or even your trophies."

Lavellan tried to smile, "Perhaps that is a good thing, as it seems I am sorely lacking in most of these now. I no longer carry that mark of power, and I have long since abdicated by role as Inquisitor. What else is there?"

"Be mother to our children." Solas said softly.

And then, on an even more gentle note, he pressed a kiss to her cheek "Be the woman I love the rest of my life."

"Be my bondmate, Lavellan. Be my wife, be the woman who I stand beside until the histories fade and all that remains is the two of us together, our story one of those songs the Dalish tell when they speak of a great and passionate love."

"You've never had a particularly good opinion of the Dalish, Solas."

Solas laughed, and the warm tone of it echoed, dancing off the moon-pale bark and silver moss. "That was before I met you, vhenan."

His eyes softened, "I know I have said as much to you before, but I do not think I have ever told you the truth of it."

"The truth?" She raised her brows.

"The first time I told you that I loved you, that day on the balcony, it was a lie. Or rather, that was the moment I mustered the courage to tell you the depth of my feelings."

"Then-"

"The _truth_, vhenan, is that I realized I loved you much earlier." There was a touch of a smile on his lips, "I've mentioned once that I had been a passionate and impulsive young man. These senses have not left me entirely. And when you found us after we fled Haven, having braved the winter storm, I knew then that you were special to me."

He looked at her ruefully, "It was in the middle of that first night, while I sat beside you in the healing tent, when I realized my feelings. The respect and admiration I had for you had grown into something much more."

"Solas..." Lavellan looked aghast, "It was nearly a year after we arrived at Skyhold that you first mentioned anything."

"It was a busy year for us, was it not?"

"Even then..."

"I know." His thumb traced a gentle path from chin to cheek, "I intended to temper my feelings with time. But in the end, that sentiment leaves little but regret."

"You know I care for you," She spoke boldly as she took his hand in her own, "Why tell me this now?"

"I am tired of needlessly trying to delay. Of withholding happiness without good reason." His blue eyes glittered, "Time is precious dear one, and I am so very tired of wasting it."

He begged as he pulled away, caressing the softness of her cheek, "Let us continue our path together, vhenan, and build an extraordinary _ordinary_ life together."

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, to the corner of her mouth.

"I ask you now. I _beg_ you, wake up."

Lavellan laughed, but it caught with the tears in her throat, at the corners of her eyes.

"I thought you would never ask." She whispered.

And so she woke.

* * *

**EPILOGUE**: Several Years Later

Dorian arrived in Wycome with all his customary flash.

Some things rarely changed, and Dorian found that just as he had settled into his own, so too had the small village found a way to preserve its quiet beauty, the tranquility that had come to suffuse this unlikely hiding place for two of Thedas' most powerful figures.

It had been nearly a year since he had found time to get away, the politics in Tevinter being what they were. But now that he was here, he found himself shocked to admit he had missed this quiet, the beckoning of the sunshine and scent of fresh bread and goods wafting from the center market.

Turning towards the far edge of the forest, he had not gone more than several steps when he heard the approaching laughter of children, and amongst their shouts, two identical voices calling to him directly.

"Uncle Dorian!"

The voices were rich with excitement, an eagerness that had matured from sweet puppy energy to the wildness of youth. And just as the words winged through the air, so too did the boys who appeared at the forest edge, wild red hair dancing as they raced towards him, so swift it seemed as if they too were flying.

And there, just behind stood Lavellan and Cole, following at a more sedate pace.

"You have arrived just in time." Lavellan's eyes were bright, filled with sunlight and such happiness that she all but glowed.

"You are all well?" He asks, watching as the boys dart away after their greetings to venture towards the market with its promise of frilly cakes.

"Indeed." Lavellan laughed, "Though much has changed in your absence."

He had last seen her when she was newly awoken, brought back from the Fade after several months of unchanging sleep. Dorian had little idea of the power it had taken Solas to return her to them all, but he had remained at her side after that and so Dorian had felt secure in his departure.

"Changes indeed?" Dorian remarked, "And of what variety my dear?"

"Oh you shall see soon enough." Lavellan smiled cunningly, "But first tell me, how was Theron?"

"Ah, he mentioned I had gone to visit him and his king-of –the-assassins?"

"Of course." Lavellan cocked one hip, "We were betrothed once upon a time, and have remained friends since. We know share all of our secrets with each other."

"You minx, you do _not_."

"Well, _no_." Lavellan grinned, "But he does send regular ravens. So I just wanted to make sure you were properly satisfied with your journey."

"I was. Antiva does have a particular _aroma_ but the information I received there was invaluable. Some secrets are best received in person."

"And in that we agree." Lavellan nodded, "Therefore, please except my apologies."

"Apologies?" Dorian's dark brows rose, "Whatever for?"

"For keeping _this_ particular secret from you."

And with those words she gestured to the edge of the forest where Solas stood. And though the man looked not a day older, in his arms was something, someone entirely new.

Small, but still carrying the softness of her baby features, Dorian could see a little cap of fiery curls upon her head, a little cape of soft lavender knit around her slight shoulders.

"Is that-?"

Lost for words, his dark eyes glanced from child to father, child to mother.

"I had no idea!" He complained then, teasing her with a pout, "What is the meaning of this – why was I not informed!"

"I heard you were a busy man," Lavellan grinned, "Saving the known world, or something to that effect. Also, _surprise_."

Dorian shook his head in disbelief though his lips remained curved into a smile, "What a gorgeous girl. A lovely surprise indeed. "

"I am glad." Lavellan smiled, leaning against him for a moment, "Now would you like to meet her?"

Grasping her friend's bag and slinging it over her shoulder Lavellan led the way, "Come and see your niece, Dorian, meet Ma'nehn."


End file.
